butterfliie dragon
by SebonzaMitsuki27
Summary: ToushirouKarin. Manga divergence. These choices we make define who we are.
1. life, intervened

**b u t t e r f l i i e . d r a g o n**

life, intervened

"_Tell him… tell him that my offer still stands."_

* * *

She doesn't regret it.

But he does.

This is her life, and it's up to her to make these decisions and bear the consequences.

This is what she gets for pursuing the truth and trying to save her family.

—

Something is pounding, ringing in her ears and she knows very well that it isn't her heart. It sounds like… footsteps.

Eyelids flicker, half open, half closed, but the rest of her remains still on the cold floor. A bitter smile twists her mouth, fading away as she recognises the _reiatsu_, lingering a moment longer as the familiar feeling of hate washes over her. It's _his_ fault, because if it wasn't for him she wouldn't _be_ here. She wouldn't have—

It doesn't matter.

It's been a long time since she's seen or heard from _this_ person.

Maybe he's disgraced, maybe he's embarrassed, or maybe he can't handle the different person she has become to survive. It's quite alright. She doesn't like him either, not anymore.

"Get up." He mutters, a scowl lodged in his face, voice terse. "Get the fuck up."

Smirking, the thought passes her by that if she stays motionless for long enough, she could be mistaken for dead. Perhaps that might be an improvement, since staying alive is a pain in the ass. But she won't grant him that honour, defying everything that he says, as much as she can help it. She won't get up, nor will she die. Rolling her eyes, her entire body, which was previously facing the wall with one barred window, the prisoner swivels over to face him, her dark eyes glitter maliciously at the sight of him.

Prisoner. Criminal. Jailbird. That's what she is and there's no point muttering excuses, because she earned it. She knew what she was doing, and she didn't care.

Remaining on the floor, she uses one hand to brush her unkempt hair out of her face, the other to support her head, resting on her ear; she casts a perfectly curled smile on her pale cheeks, as if the person standing before her is just a test subject up for slaughter, cruel fascination.

"Hello to you too, _orange-berry._" The prisoner drawls lazily, feigning disinterest, though her dark eyes gleam malevolently. "And what, dare I ask, gives me the pleasure to see you in… oh, so long?"

"Shut up." He snaps, hating what she has become. _It was a bad idea, coming here._

Almost as if she reads his mind, the girl examines her fingernails, murmuring absentmindedly. "Oh, you mustn't say that. That would completely eradicate your purpose of coming here – unless you wanted me to be a zoo exhibit where you could stop, stare, point and say whatever the hell you want, making me listen to you and say nothing." There's a slight pause, where blue meets brown, one smirks, the other scowls and she continues, indifferent to his disgusted reactions. "So take your time, _brother dearest_, I have all the time in the world."

Stretching, bones click and fill the silence that neither break with words; one awkward and at a loss, the other uncaring and blasé.

The prison is doing handstands and contemplating walking on her hand by the time Kurosaki Ichigo says something.

"… you're looking well."

At his remark, she laughs, hollow and mirthless; gracefully landing on her feet and smoothing her hair back. "_You're looking well?_ Is that the best you can do, orange-berry?" She sneers, eyebrow arched high. "I could fucking cringe at the _lameness_ of that! Not an _apology?_ Not a _plea_ for _forgiveness?_ Not an _explanation _for where the fuck you've _been?_" Her bony hands grip the bars tightly, shaking slightly. "Five years, Ichigo! Five fucking years, I was stuck in that _shithole_, and after spending a year here, what do I find out? That you never gave a damn—"

"You're my—my… of course I gave a damn!" Ichigo retorts to her rant, losing his composure as easily as her.

"Really." Coolly, she inclines her head at his outburst, taking notice of his faltering words. "And yet you can't even say _sister_, let alone my name. Why is that, I wonder? Let's think, _brother_ dearest." Using the term derisively, she can't bite back a snicker when he flinches; slowly encircling him like a spider about to gobble up their prey, tightening the hold as every second passed. "Is it because you're ashamed of me? Is it because you can't stand my presence – could _that_ be the reason why you've avoided for so long? Or is it…" As she settles on her next question, her dark eyes glimmer in spite. "… because you actually disowned me?"

Furious at the very idea, Ichigo's eyes find hers and narrow angrily. "Don't be fucking absurd! You know I'd never—"

"Do I?" Tartly interrupting, her head lowers, crow black tresses trembling down her spine. "Do I _really?_ The Ichigo _I_ knew wouldn't have taken so long. The Ichigo _I_ knew wouldn't have kept secrets from me. The Ichigo _I_ knew would have made sure that his own family was _okay!_" Though the last part is said quietly, showing how vulnerable she was all those years, he can hear her clearly, and the effect cuts him like a knife to the heart.

"For fuck's sake, get a grip on yourself!" Raising his voice to a shout in an attempt to rid the guilt. "Why would _he_ of all people – kidnap _you_? Why couldn't you just be a fucking runaway? Why couldn't it be as simple as that?"

Flaring instantly at the insinuation that she wasn't worth anything, her icy exterior changes instantly, ready to smoulder, ready to burn and mar his scowling face. Anger does not suit her, but she has a nasty temper that matches the brightest flames of Hell. Unfortunately, her mouth tends to go haywire and spill out restrained secrets when her temper bursts.

"Because it's never that simple! Why do you think I'd go if I _had_ runaway? To a friend's house? To a nearby train station and get on the next train? Think about it, dumbass. It was to break _you_ – and I'll be damned if his plan hasn't worked! Look at you! Look at me! Can you honestly say that we're the same people that we were six years ago? Can you honestly admit that _nothing's changed_?" Exhaling deeply, she steps back, falling away from the rage, the hate, the bitter taste of lost innocence. Fingers slips from the bar, now tracing the frame of the kicked down chair that she refuses to use.

She is tired, if nothing else.

"What did you come here for?"

"I wanted to see you." Ichigo says simply. Time is running out.

Barely refraining from laughing, the jailbird turns slowly to face him, incredulous. Fury ignites once more in her veins, coursing far deeper than skin and bones. Yet she tries, for her own sake, not his, to keep it at bay. "… I see. Are you trying to act like a big brother again? Or has _Rukia_ said something to make you 'see me'? If it's either of them, then I'll have to say that you've botched it up rather well." Her hands clench and unclench; nails digging crescent moons into her pallid flesh. She doesn't look at him. "I'm not the sweet sister who you used to know. I'm different, but still, I take the secrets I keep to the grave. I wouldn't have told anyone, had you told me."

The memory flickers into his mind, her hand clinging onto his. Small. Delicate. Fragile. So different to the person that she is now, like she said.

"I know."

"But still." It's no excuse. She sighs, no longer interested in the topic of the conversation, disappointment evident in the air she breathes, but for whom? Silence swallows them until she disrupts it. "… do you regret it?"

Ichigo blinks, taken off-guard, unsure how to answer her question; it can apply to many moments of his lifetime.

Impassive once more, she lets the subject go, a crooked scowl flittering onto her pale face. "Forget it." Feeling more civil, she sits cross legged on the floor, gazing at him expectantly. "Well?"

"Well what?"

"What are you still doing here?" Tone scathing, she enunciates every syllable.

"Do you want me to go?" Blithe, he replies.

"I don't particularly care either way, but I don't appreciate being gawked at like an animal on display." Dispassionate, she shrugs, hating the standstill.

"Right. Well, I wanted to say that you've only got a month longer here in Soul Society prison, and then you're free to go." It sounds weak to his ears, and the prisoner only shrugs listlessly in reply, eyes glazed and mute. "Okay. That's it, I guess." What did he expect? Some mind changing revelation that would repair their relationship, like it used to be? No, that took work, and neither of them were interesting in rebuilding severed bonds. The disappointment he feels shouldn't be there. No longer wishing to remain in the cell, he turns to go.

"Wait."

And he does, back facing hers, waiting for whatever she has to say.

In that second, she feels ten again, full of secrets and things to say; unsure if she can confide in someone. She could tell the orange-berry about her dreams, tell him that she's sorry things turned out this way, tell him that she doesn't regret making that decision, forever changing her life. She wouldn't have made it, had he chosen a different path to live.

"How is he?" Hesitant, she asks, doubtful of whether he's the right person to get her answer.

"Who?" Though he has his suspicions on who he's talking about, Kurosaki Ichigo cannot help but respond warily. Family or not, he has to keep his wits about him when facing a criminal.

Her eyes lower and she breathes. "… Hitsugaya-soutaichou."

At this, he pauses, wondering what to say.

"I don't know. Rumour has it that he finally cracked under pressure. Others say he's resigned from that position – nobody can find him. Though people are keeping quiet about it."

"What do _you_ think?" She persists, not bothering to conceal her true emotion.

"I think he's with Unohana. But I won't know. They are just rumours." Ichigo flatly states. "Why?"

She purses her lips and gazes out the window, wavering at her selection of words.

"Tell him… tell him that my offer still stands."

Silence floods the distance between them; one toying the question he should ask to those cryptic words, the other in no mood to talk any longer.

"I'll see you then."

"Bye." She quietly murmurs, falling prey to sleeping ghosts, with green eyes and a fever of blue.

And once more, does Kurosaki Karin feign death on the cold floor, waiting for something to happen that grants her freedom.

—

This is what he gets for trying to save his family and play the hero.

This is his life and it's up to him to make these decisions and bear the consequences.

He doesn't regret it.

But she does.

* * *

Disclaimer: Bleach. Tite Kubo's. Not mine.


	2. the choice

**b u t t e r f l i i e . d r a g o n**

the choice

"_You work for me now."_

* * *

**Six years ago.**

_Do you want to know the truth?_

Later, these words would rewind and replay over and over in Kurosaki Karin's mind.

_Aren't you tired of living a life that's condemned to being kept in the dark?_

And maybe, had the world not frozen and her mind not shut down, she could have prevented all that was to come, stall for the resident weirdo _shinigami_ to save her. Maybe. Maybe not.

_Come with me, I'll take you to Aizen-sama._

How was she, a ten year old girl, _nearly_ _eleven_, meant to fend for herself against a Hollow?

_Or should I kill your family, one by one, in front of you, in order to convince you?_

Maybe if she was thinking straight, with her mind and not her heart, something—_anything_ could have been done.

But like her brother before her, she chose to make the decision to save her family; yet this wouldn't have happened had Ichi-nii not become a _shinigami_.

Kurosaki Karin wasn't to know that her part to play was a puppet with cut strings, no longer sure where her allegiances lay, her bond with her family completely severed.

Something that would completely destroy Kurosaki Ichigo.

—

That was the moment she had to make her choice, blind sighted by ignorance and a desire to break free and know the truth.

And in this moment, she began her downhill spiral, not stopping until she reached rock bottom.

—

Perhaps it wouldn't have happened had Karin's heart hadn't been in such a tumultuous state. Lately, everything had been like a dream – a rosy coloured haze, seamlessly entwined with an assortment of happiness and improving the soccer team. Then the dream had turned into a nightmare: _he_ was gone. And everything that had made her happy now turned her unpleasant. Gone were the smiles and blushes, laughter and a controlled temper – that part of her had vanished, disappearing into a void. What remained was a foul-mouthed, foul-tempered girl, envious of something that didn't quite make sense. Her friends avoided her, knowing all too well that whatever was the matter with her, it was beyond their control – and with no idea on how long this demon would last.

She needed space, time to clear her head; and her friends would give her that. But they didn't _understand_. How could they? They weren't girls.

… they weren't her.

They didn't know _him_ like she did.

And they didn't have Kurosaki Isshin as a father. The man who loved to make pratfalls and embarrass – scratch that – _humiliate_ his family, both interfering with personal lives and causing great scenes of embarrassment in public, remedial only by rendering the insane man unconscious, beating him black and blue to shut him up.

If Kurosaki Isshin was the one that made the ticking time bomb explode, then Hitsugaya Toushirou was the one who lit the fuse.

Hitsugaya Toushirou, soccer player extraordinaire and tenth captain of the _shinigami_.

He was her mystery, the complex puzzle that she had not solved. The person… whom she was unsure about. What role did he play in her life?

It was his fault! He was to blame! He had, yet _again_, seeped into her thoughts and distracted her from what was right in front of her: her friends, her family, homework too, although she didn't care much for that in the first place. And the Kurosakis had noticed, Yuzu with a giggle and a blush, Isshin with melodrama, praying to the family portrait of their deceased mother, once more enforcing his ideals with big gestures, loud voices and over the top sobs, so that Karin would have the pleasure of hearing her faults and her father's dilemmas spoken aloud. They had jumped to the correct conclusion, both startling and infuriating the middle child.

It couldn't be true! She didn't—

Her cheeks burned and her temper had sky-rocketed. Her ears fell deaf to the wails of the future, marriage and cooking food. Her eyes ignored Yuzu's gentle presence, wide doe eyes watching her reaction.

_Future_. Fuck that. Why not live in the present and deal with the future when that time came?

_Marriage._ Fuck that too. Since when do ten year olds get _married_, let alone engaged?

_Cookery._ She. _Couldn't_. Cook. That was Yuzu's forte; Karin could only clean the dishes, when she wasn't breaking them. That way nobody died.

Somehow, she restrained her punch, took a deep breath, rolled her eyes and walked out, muttering "leave me alone" under her breath, slamming the door behind her. She wanted a place to think, not a _migraine_ caused by her family's antics. Hopefully, they wouldn't go into 'overkill mode' when she returned, although there was no doubt that she'd have to counter her father's ambush because she really shouldn't be wandering. But she would handle it, like Ichi-nii attempted, every single day.

Maybe her family wasn't normal, but then normality was overrated. Besides, the entire Kurosaki family was not known for normality, save one. No, they were renowned for bad tempers, mean kicks and unpredictable behaviour, verging on the unstable. Normality for them was seeing ghosts, if people didn't include the shouting and ignoring process.

Karin sighed, looking up into the sky, wondering where her feet were taking her.

It wasn't their fault. Not Isshin's, not Yuzu's. She shouldn't have done that. Oh well. She'd make up for it, in some way.

The sky was beautiful, and as Karin gazed, all her emotions drained away, as dusk slowly crept in, changing blue to red, white to orange and silver to pink. The wind blew in her jagged hair, teasing her with icy hands.

All she felt was melancholy.

Looking away from the sunset, she realized that her feet had led her to the hill where she first met him. _Hitsugaya Toushirou._ Scowling, Karin was annoyed that everything she did eventually guided her back to the _stupid_ white-haired _midget_ who was an _elementary student._ All she wanted to do was escape from the memories and her noisy and dramatic family for a while. The noise was oddly comforting, and the drama-queen acts, delivered spectacularly by her father and Yuzu were hilarious when they came to Ichi-nii. While she would return to her family, sooner or later – although preferably later – the raven-haired girl wished that she could forget _everything_ because the desire to scream, to shout, to shriek… was growing, bubbling deep inside of her.

She was upset, and that bothered her. She shouldn't _be_ so upset in the first place. Why was one _stupid_ white-haired, aquamarine-eyed boy that didn't say goodbye, only because _he's a shinigami taichou_ affecting her so much? Ichi-nii didn't say goodbye and that was fine with her, because she knew that he'd return. At he had the decency to leave his body behind… with some kind of perverse possessing thing.

Maybe that was the problem – the former, not the latter. She didn't know if Toushirou would return.

_At least, _Karin thought with an unconscious smile as her thought drifted back to him, _he was a good soccer player._

Her blue eyes flashed and she shook her head furiously, trying to shake those thoughts away, aware that her cheeks were boiling red. Again. What was wrong with her? She shouldn't be so _mad_, so _upset_ about _this one boy!_ So what if he didn't say goodbye? A lot of people did that and she couldn't care less. Why was she so affected by _his _departure?

Yuzu couldn't possibly be—

She couldn't possibly be right… could she?

No. Absolutely not. There was _no way._

_No._

No. _No. __**No!**_

She was _not _lovesick. She was _not_ in love with a boy who had hair the colour of snow and the most intense aquamarine eyes that she had ever seen, called—

_Fuck._

She was in love.

_Shit._

With a _shinigami taichou._

Shit. _Shit. _

Called Hitsugaya Toushirou.

Shit. _Shit. __**Shit.**_

Well, that made two of them in the family. Except Ichi-nii had fallen for Rukia, not Toushirou; but if he had… it would be odd. Kinda creepy. Ew.

Shivering from the cold breeze, Kurosaki Karin looked up. She was at the hill where she first saw _him_; but this time the road was empty, devoid of any cars. She had nearly been run over that day. The world was an evil place; she decided and did the first thing that came to mind.

Alas, she had no soccer ball. If she had, the same thing might have happened, except that he wouldn't be around; and this time, there'd be no vehicles to collide with.

"You stupid _baka!_ I _hate_ you! I hate _you!_" Karin shouted, venting out all her anger, hands curled up into tight fists, nails digging into her skin. She was beginning to feel better when she froze, sensing someone's _reiatsu_, and instinctively knowing that it was a Hollow.

Then she heard a voice, soft and lilting, deep yet quiet. When she turned around, slow and afraid, but trying to hide her emotions, Karin saw a man with black hair, strange green eyes and the most melancholic face that she had ever seen.

"Little girls shouldn't wander around alone, or shout with such volume. Black eyes. Black hair. You must be Kurosaki Karin, sister of Kurosaki Ichigo. Perhaps it's a good thing that you don't resemble him, for he was nothing but trash. But," he lamented, as the breeze flicked silky black hair over his shoulder carelessly. "Aizen-sama requires you. Do you wish to see him?"

And in that moment, while her mind was sluggishly trying to regain some thought of logic, her heart was overruling every sensible thought. Because some part of her was absolutely certain that she was dreaming.

Seconds passed by, and Karin finally unclenched her hands, nail marks proof enough to show that she was anchored to reality, but still she couldn't quite believe it.

His hand was extended, calmly awaiting her response with an indifferent face.

"Do you want to know the truth?"

"What?" Something flickered in her eyes, thoughts racing as his words clicked in her mind. "Why are you… _what _are you talking about?"

"Aren't you tired of living a life that's condemned to being kept in the dark?"

Karin hesitated, unwilling to trust him. Who would trust a stranger? Stepping back, she wondered if it was just wishful thinking that she could run away faster than he could catch her.

As if he had read her mind, he tilted his head, musing absentmindedly. "Or should I kill your family, one by one, in front of you, in order to convince you?" Jade eyes glimmered, watching beneath half-closed eyelids, tone monotonous, skin like china with two lines tracing tears that could never fall.

"Don't you dare!" Anger blazed in her eyes, and she was alive for that moment, radically different from her dazed state before, her mind placing her family's importance before her own.

"Why not?"

"Because I'll…" _Crap._ Mind blank, Karin faltered, searching for something that could not be found. "I'll—"

"What can you do?" He scorned, waiting for that spark to flare in her eyes once more, intrigued. "A girl who has nothing, a girl who knows nothing; what can she do?"

"I… there's got to be something I can do! Besides knock you out with a well-aimed soccer ball."

His eyebrow arched at the curios answer. "Hardly. I reiterate: you can do nothing. If I chose to kill them – you would be powerless to stop me."

"So give me the strength! Give me the power and I'd protect them!"

Did she think that he was some kind of _shinigami?_ Unimpressed, he asked. "Would you? _Could_ you?"

"If I agree to go see him… would you promise not to kill them?" Head downcast, the words formed reluctantly.

To kill was one thing, to hurt was another, all implications aside.

He inclined his head, extending his hand once more. "Do you accept?"

Kurosaki Karin trembled, before swallowing her doubt down her throat, her decision clear in her mind.

And she made her choice.

—

It didn't matter that Kurosaki Karin was the chosen sibling; it could have been Kurosaki Yuzu. But Yuzu would be an imitation of Hinamori Momo, gullible and naïve with pretty brown eyes and a far too innocent face. As tempting as it was, to spin a web around her and have her consumed with truth and lies, blindly following orders, admiration in her eyes, up until her last dying breaths… it seemed somewhat tedious. But Kurosaki Karin was something else, something different; a mixture of potential breaking and fixing. She stood in half-shadows, not blind from the truth, but still shielded from it.

But she _knew_ about them: _shinigami_, Hollow, normal ghosts, and could even see them, which meant that she had a high _reiatsu_. She knew, she saw and she didn't tell a soul, refusing to divulge the information, lest you counted vaguer implications to her friends with a dash of violence.

Knowledge was a great but terrible thing; it was power, it was a curse, and it was going to sever every bond that Kurosaki Karin had ever made.

It was curious, fascinating even, but irrelevant: all that mattered was that she was Kurosaki Ichigo's little sister.

And Ulquiorra Schiffer was chosen to recruit her, less inclined to banter and brawl than Grimmjow Jeagerjaques, restraining his emotions unless they help aid the mission.

He was to build her, break her, brainwash her, rebuild her, train her, lie to her, bribe to her, doing whatever it took for her to be Aizen Sousuke's perfect warrior.

Kurosaki Ichigo was a problem, and what better way to get rid of him than turn his own family against him?

There was a problem. What was to become of Kurosaki Yuzu? Twins have entwined souls. And therefore, if Karin was to become a _shinigami_, then so would Yuzu.

If there was a solution, then Ulquiorra was not informed of it. He didn't care for it either, for this was one of many tasks that he would do.

But how was he to know that she would change his life?

—

He walked silently, the echoes of his footsteps muffled by the dragging of an unconscious girl, who was more resilient and resistant than he thought, though that could be attributed to the fact that she was Kurosaki Ichigo's sister. Fortunately, the girl did not have a Hollow in her soul, and was neither _shinigami_ nor Vaizard. Luckily, she had a hindrance. Love. This made her weaker, more fragile, yet somehow stronger because of it.

Though his _reiatsu_ overwhelmed her; she was beginning to agree to his conditions; and dragged her all the way to Las Noches, her hand in his.

However, dragging her was tiresome and Ulquiorra was positive that Aizen-sama would not be pleased on how he was treating the 'prized secret weapon', which was now bruised and unconscious. Lugging the girl had proved effective, but now his arm was aching – therefore what method should he attempt to take her to Aizen-sama?

Giving her a 'piggy-back ride' wasn't an option as Ulquiorra had no desire to besmirch his name by looking like that… carrying that girl.

Wedding style, then. After all, nobody had to know.

Coming to a halt and sighting, Ulquiorra Schiffer lifted the unconscious Kurosaki Karin into his arm. How odd. The red cap from before was missing. And, she was much lighter to carry, and almost had the exact shade of black hair he had, if only, perhaps, a tad darker.

"Kurosaki Karin," he muttered, once he had found the designated place, "we have arrived."

Stirring into consciousness, Karin's black eyes flickered open, and the Espada Arrancar tensed, expecting a barrage of screaming insults, rival almost to Grimmjow. _They'd be good fighting partners, _he thought absentmindedly. Instead, she gave him a loud sigh, surprising him. Children were strange.

"Does the place have to be so… _white_ and… and… _ominous_? I mean, I know that I agreed… and I'm so going to beat the shit out of you later – but c'mon! This place just reeks and screams out 'I'm evil, come and find me!' Don't you think?"

"… are you suggesting," The Cuarta Espada paused, selecting the right words, "that you want to redesign it? That it needs a woman's… no, a _girl's_ touch??"

"_Hell no!"_ She indignantly exclaimed, offended, red-faced, and ignoring his insinuation which she hadn't picked up. "If you wanted redesigning, then you should've taken Yuzu. Don't, by the way. I was only saying that it looks cliché… it could grow on me, you know?"

He didn't, but chose not to reply. However, he was relieved from the question by a familiar and omnipotent voice.

"Ulquiorra Schiffer, welcome back. And welcome to Hueco Mundo, Kurosaki Karin." Aizen Sousuke's pleasant voice greeted them, gracious as always.

"Aizen-sama." Ulquiorra began to speak, partly to tell Karin who the voice belonged to and partly to greet him back. "I have returned with Kurosaki Karin."

"Um… can you put me down now? I can stand on my own two feet, you know." Karin mumbled to the melancholic Arrancar, fidgeting. Her cheeks heated up as she became acutely aware of their position and that everyone had their eyes on them.

Wordlessly, he let her, as she put it: 'stand on her own two feet'.

Mustering up her courage, she put her hand on her hips, attempting bravado to hide her fear. "Alright Aizen, what the hell do you want from me?"

The attempt made her look like a brat.

Aizen stood up and then toyed with his funny looking – in Karin's opinion – lock of hair, in front of his face. "I require you… to kill Kurosaki Ichigo."

Kill. Destroy. Maim. He could have used any word which had the general idea of what she was about to do in the future, but Aizen-sama, like Ichimaru-sama, had a tendency for the dramatic.

"No. _No!_ I fucking refuse!" She shook her head furiously, and was about to go to a heated protest when—

"Kurosaki Karin." Aizen silenced her, and she froze as she heart Aizen, from his high pedestal, whisper in her ear. "You work for me now."

For a moment, her throat was caught, her body numb and her tongue could barely move. Even Ulquiorra watched her, waiting for her unpredictable reaction, from the corner of his unusually bright jade eyes. Looking closer, he realized that her eyes weren't black, just a very dark blue.

At last she managed to say something, despite it sounding tight and constrained. The Arrancars had to admire her for not crying or yelling her head off, though the latter seemed more likely. A ten year old, so young, who has heard that they are never going to see her family again, and _kill_ her older brother, would be expected to be in tears. Instead she stood there, ashen white and clenching her hands, blood almost ready to burst from her skin, in ire, rather than fear. She had courage, and was willing to cast away fear to protect her family, ensure her survival, and do whatever Aizen sought from her. Even if it was at the expense of her older brother.

"And… if I refuse?" Kurosaki Karin asked, almost inaudibly. Part of her was bold, another defiant; another afraid.

She waited for his reaction, trembling ever so slightly. But still she didn't cry. Her tears had disappeared long ago. And she still had hope.

Ichi-nii _would_ rescue her, and then she wouldn't have to do what Aizen wanted.

But Aizen only said one word. Just one. He tilted his head, and smiled. Kurosaki Karin, however, saw through him – saw that it was twisted and that it distorted his face. And as she gazed at his _kind, understanding, gentle _smile, she saw thinly veiled anger in his amused and amicable expression.

And the next thing she knew was that she was falling into darkness, powerless to stop her descent.

"_Suffer."_


	3. life, rewritten

**b u t t e r f l i i e . d r a g o n**

life, rewritten

"_You don't get it do you – why can't you leave me the __**fuck**__ alone?"_

* * *

Blurry. Shadowy. Hazy.

Perhaps those words are the best to describe these past six years. Some things, Hitsugaya Toushirou could remember with startling clarity, as if it happened yesterday, or minutes ago; yet other things, small talk or trivialities, are wiped clean from his memory, as if they never happened.

—

_He says "who are you" to the shadow in the mirror, and only silence replies._

—

Maybe they weren't important, those tiny details of the day, but surely, _some _recollection was better than none at all.

First, he considered it because of pressure – too much work from his new position and Matsumoto no longer relieved his stress, though infuriating him often because of it. She was a godsend, really, though he hadn't thought of it that way at the time. Even so, as time passed as the new soutaichou fell into a fairly comfortable pattern, with random fluxes that occurred here and there; there was a void in his mind, memories hidden behind a locked door.

A void he would not care for had he… had he not had an ache that troubled him.

Memories he forgot were kept underground, encapsulated within little white pills. _Breath mints._ The previous soutaichou had enclosed them in a note, stating that the mints would help him stay focused on the job – it worked wonders for him. Each pill, each unrelated memory to his work became repressed and soon his body became used to the tiny box of 'breath mints', since Hitsugaya never ran out of them, finding new boxes of breath mint every now and then.

He developed an addiction.

—

"_Hitsugaya, Hitsugaya, Hitsugaya… when __**are**__ you going to learn?" She chuckles, deep voice laughing humourlessly._

_She always calls him that. And he wonders why it feels so wrong, coming from the girl, or is it woman, that he doesn't know._

—

Soon, great lapses of memories became forgotten, to the point that he had forgotten that the dead… were dead.

Yet he was haunted. Not by a ghost, but by a figment of his imagination.

A girl, who had long black hair and an oddly twisted smile adorned on her face.

—

_She talks to him. He knows this, and ignores her._

_She says stupid things like: "Ain't life a bitch." and "Ah, jeez, if you're going to be like this, I might as well shoot myself. I bet reincarnation is a lot more interesting that talking to you."_

_Says things that make him smirk like: "Why don't you just punch him in the face?" or "Dance, funky boy. __**Dance.**__"_

_Says things which leave him hollow: "You don't get it do you – why can't you leave me the __**fuck**__ alone?"_

_And sometimes she says nothing at all._

—

It seemed that nobody else could see her, though if people did, then they ignored her or made no apparent allusion to the surly girl who lingered in the darkness and longed to drink in the sun. She talked sometimes, coldly, sadly, emotionlessly, but always with a trace of bitterness. Every time he reacted, sensing a restless ache, finding the lost feeling to respond – be it jibe, comment, movement or gesture – she disappeared, claimed and reclaimed again and again by the shape of a small white pill, down his throat and dispersed into his bloodstream, erasing every last imprint of her. Time and time again, he remembered and forgot, an endless spiral caused by his addiction.

How was it that he always was reminded of her, and yet he had no idea of she was?

Originally, it was only short time periods, and it didn't trouble him; but then the blank space grew, stealing more memories, reinforced by other people's remarks, be it cutting, teasing or another thing completely that Hitsugaya Toushirou could not discern.

But he'd had enough of the white recess.

—

_She sits, she stands, she squats, she scowls. She lies on the ground, she laughs, she handstands, she flicks his head._

_Whatever she does, it distracts him._

… _occasionally, he welcomes it; other times, he loses his temper._

—

The icy soutaichou was tired of waking up disorientated, closing his eyes and being in one place, opening his eyes and being in another; blinking once more and startled to find himself at his desk, littered with paperwork.

And the mysterious boxes of breath mints were going to go.

Pity, that detoxing alone and without any supervision wasn't quite a breeze, especially since Kurotsuchi Mayuri always smirked that twisted sneer in his direction, the distinct sound of a box of pills audible in his stride.

When questioned, Kurotsuchi Nemu only replied that it was the previous soutaichou's wish and it was easily concocted in those pills to help achieve his goal. However, the addiction that had developed… was not anticipated.

Cursing under his breath, the new soutaichou dismissed her, chucking her small box of pills that was left behind, 'harmless' breath mints, into the bin. Hesitating as he gazed out the window, bemusement in his eyes, he made his decision.

He was to be locked up as long as the pill resided and coursed through his veins.

In a clean, protected environment, he is free of temptation; though his mind, his body, his soul may consider it torture, he would finally be wholly himself, with no more holes in his memory.

—

The medic has a theory why this… amnesia has happened. It happened before the pills, happened because of one sole reason: he froze his heart, shutting down weakness, focusing only the mission's objective.

And his mind had complied, erasing the people who had made him feel _weak_, vulnerable, isolated and helpless; drawing blanks at the bonds of trust, ensure that his guard would never be let down unless deemed absolutely necessary. His pain was numbed by the intensity of his ice, internally, not externally; and relied on things such as instinct and honour and righteous sense of duty. To feel such weakness was _unthinkable_ – or at least, that's what the pressure whispered in his ear when it sunk in – he, Hitsugaya Toushirou, youngest captain of Gotei Thirteen, the youngest _soutaichou_, shouldn't feel these things – he was a symbol of hope, of inspiration – if people really studied and worked their best, then they too could rise in the ranks. If he let them, where would their hope be? Hitsugaya's loathing of being defenceless and the idea of fragility did not depend on reputation alone; while they were key factors, they weren't the central focus.

He simply didn't want to let the people close to him down.

He had decided that a long time ago, when he stood alone in a place of ice… waiting and contemplating… that he would stand alone.

Thus: he had forgotten how to feel, how to truly love. And though he respected people, acknowledging them and losing his temper at them, he wasn't experiencing the true emotion that he should have done.

And his mind broke his memory into shards… breaking him. But only until he was ready to accept himself.

Perhaps he would have recovered from the experience and learnt his mistake, had the pills not been introduced… but the pills kept on erasing memories that yearned to remembered.

The memories fought the pills, aware what was happening to his heart, not his mind; though Hitsugaya Toushirou himself remained woefully ignorant.

His _reiatsu _differentiates when something happens to him, though he tries to hide from the watchful eye, his entire posture changes. Sometimes his lips quirk, as if hearing, thinking a private joke; other times he stops, staring at a certain spot, before looking away and sighing hopelessly, disheartened; and other times, he _fumes_, pouting ever so slightly.

Maybe he sees a ghost, the form of someone who has slipped through his defences, making dents on his invisible shield, affecting him.

Emotionally. Distantly. Vaguely.

Maybe he doesn't.

But he needs is to get those drugs out of his system and lighten up, or else he would no doubt suffer worse consequences.

—

Unohana Retsu will make sure that the procedure is both safe and covert; make sure that he'll recover those memories and discover what he has forgotten about himself. He will be alright in her hands; this addiction is the same as others, and surely, if there is anyone who can bounce back from rehabilitation, it's Hitsugaya Toushirou.

So he waits, resting his eyes on the single window that shows a single ray of light, and wonders what he will remember.


	4. the illusion

**b u t t e r f l i i e . d r a g o n**

the illusion

"_There's always a price to what you desire."_

* * *

**One year ago.**

He didn't want to come back. Not to Karakura Town.

It disconcerted him… somehow. Though he wasn't afraid of it, nor did he have exquisitely bad memories there, it _was_ the town that Aizen had chosen that was doomed to die.

And… a girl eclipsed the town. She wasn't a ghost, no. But she haunted him nonetheless, allowing him to see only glimpses of her: black hair, pale skin, quirky grin. And a vicious football attached to her toes.

Yet when Yamamoto-Genryuusai Shigekuni-soutaichou had asked him personally, the tenth taichou couldn't refuse. He had no reason to decline, and feelings, however ominous could be misleading and worth nothing. Despite his internal protests, when Yamamoto-soutaichou had given the order, he had no choice but to do it. It was just another mission.

It was Matsumoto's fault, Hitsugaya Toushirou decided, or rather, instinctively _knew_. It was in her nature to assume these things about her taichou, but he didn't expect her to bring them up to Yamamoto. He made another mental note to add some of his paperwork to her rising collection. Then, if she wanted to come along, she would have to _finish_ it, every single sheet.

He would go, back to the human world, back to Karakura Town, if the soutaichou wished it. He couldn't fight that.

It had been five years since he last went to the human world, and things might have changed since he last remembered them. But something else held him back, something that had stopped him from going to Karakura Town immediately.

If he had to go, then he would say goodbye first.

They were childhood friends after all.

—

She lay there on the white bed, tightly tucked underneath the white sheets, chest rising up and down, as if she dreamed a peaceful dream, untroubled by Aizen. He certainly hoped so.

It had been three years since Hinamori Momo had fallen into a coma, with no telling of when she would wake up. Like before, her eyes remained closed, mouth covered by a life supporter, tethering her to life. Maybe her heart snapped, maybe her mind shut down, he didn't know except for the fact that she had fallen unconscious before his very eyes.

"Hey." Hitsugaya softly said, not knowing what to say; but what could he say to a comatose body and the silence between them? "How have you been, Momo?" There was no answer, but he didn't expect one. "Matsumoto has been driving me insane. Like always. Neglecting her paperwork as usual, ignoring it as I speak. What are the chances that she'll be drinking _sake_ by the time I get back to my office?"

The silence swallowed them, the life supporter wheezing in the background, ebony eyes firmly shut, aquamarine eyes softening.

"I'm going on a mission, Momo. So, I won't be visiting for a while. I bet you're already tired of my voice, since all I seem to do is moan and complain…" His rare lopsided grin on his face faded, leaving behind an apologetic look. "… I'm sorry. I _do_ miss you, Hinamori… Momo…"

And he did miss her.

He did.

He missed her ability to believe in the best of people that she cared about, even though that was loyalty to a fault. She lost her temper because she cared too much, believing that they all had some good inside them, deep down, even if others were not so inclined to feel the same way. But people took advantage of that. People like Aizen, who played with her admiration. And so, Momo fell from her pedestal, believing each smile, each act, every word that came of his deceitful, lying tongue, considering it _kind_ and _understanding_, filling her mind with empty, manipulative words. She had become broken, delusional – believing in her idol, her precious role model, firmly convinced that he could do no wrong. In her ebony eyes, the butter wouldn't melt in Aizen Sousuke's mouth, even with the odds against him, Hinamori Momo still believed that it was Ichimaru Gin's fault.

He'd get them – Aizen, Ichimaru and Tousen not too far behind.

Those bastards had it coming to them.

"I'll bring Aizen back, Hinamori." Hitsugaya Toushirou sighed, recalling the promise that she had asked of him in the distant past, her eyes wild and distressed. "But I can't promise you that he'll still be alive." And he wondered, that if he found him, would he kill him? Would someone else get there first? Or would he be severely injured in the battle trying to bring him back?

Beginning to walk towards the door, hand hovering above the handle, turning to face her once more, vainly hoping that once more might she open her eyes.

"Goodbye."

For a while, Hitsugaya stood outside her room, aquamarine eyes closing, intently listening the machine wheeze and give her the support that Momo need to survive. Back pressed against the door, head leaning on the surface, he indulged in a few premonitions, vain hopes in the future, what she might say, what he would say, once she awakened. Then he moved, silently walking away from her, his childhood friend, wishing that she could wake up and face reality with him.

"Sweet dreams, Hinamori Momo."

—

It really wasn't that hard to toy with him – he made it so damn _easy._

At first, she wrapped her arms against the person in her bed, enjoying that he was asleep. Or maybe he pretended to be. She never _could_ tell. He reminded the fifteen year old girl of a china doll, perfect in everyway – or at least on the surface. Then she furrowed her neck into her shoulder, his black hair tickling her nose, her head leaning on his neck, stifling her giggles. Closing her dark blue eyes, she breathed.

Yet the boredom continued to pester her.

Sighing and using the Arrancar on her bed for support, she pulled herself up, hoping that he didn't mind that much. Whatever. He was a bit of a void, truth be told. Still, he was a comforting void, if that made any sense. Her eyes were used to the dark, so she could see the outline of body and her bed, and so far, nothing stirred. Sliding to the other side of her bed, with as little noise as possible, quite hard as she was naturally clumsy – she fell off her comfortable bed and switched the lamp on, before picking up a sketchbook and a pencil.

By no means was she talented – all her ability allowed her to do was a few doodles and sticklike figures, but it let her pass the time when she wasn't fighting.

Not that she _minded_ staying here; it was fairly comfortable, with a tower, a comfortable bed and a bodyguard. Two, technically.

Quietly trying to lift the stool in her room to the side of the bed where her bodyguard Arrancar slept, she tilted her head sideways, observing how the flickering lights changed his features, his pale white skin looked gaunt and the two lines that ran down his face appeared darker than even, possibly even thinner. But still, he looked ethereal, despite a lock of jet black hair covering his face, curling above barely parted lips, and the fifteen year old refused to move it, despite the growing urge to.

He was a beautiful art subject. Pity that he didn't like to be one of her muses, more offended than amused at the final result. She wasn't very good anyway.

And so, with the utmost patience, she began to sketch him, Ulquiorra Schiffer. Although… he kind of became anorexic in the process.

Thirty minutes later, a pair of jade green eyes watched her, not moving from his position; noticing how she bit her lip, wondering whether to stop or continue, every action performed was captured in his long memory, from the flicking back of her hair and twisting strands of raven locks to the faint pencil sound that was made when she lightly pressed it against the paper.

"You really do have pretty eyes." She said, offering a half smile when she noticed him watching her.

"Rin, may I ask why you find my eyes so… fascinating?" He refused to use the word 'pretty'. He had been awake the entire time, but was curious at what she would do, since it differed every time. Though Ulquiorra believed that Arrancar shouldn't sleep beside the enemy, he found that he could let down his defences with her, to his discrete surprise. Perhaps the other woman may have affected him more than he originally thought…

She gave him a small smile, arching her eyebrow and automatically correcting him. "It's _Karin._ Ulquiorra. _Karin._ And besides," Karin sighed, somewhat content, placing her sketchbook on her lap, "I've never seen eyes like yours. But thank you for allowing me to draw you." She hid her giggle, remembering the many occasions in which he had often walked out, predictably rolling his green eyes. Alas, she could not hide her grin.

"It may be your real name, but in order to protect you," Ulquiorra said softly, voice lilting. "We must use a codename for you."

It was better tham simply 'woman'. That much was true.

"I don't like it." Huffing, her face darkened momentarily. "I don't like being called a different name, one of which _completely_ contradicts me." She snorted, exasperated and amused at her pseudonyms. "At least 'Rin' is a shortened version of Karin."

"I suppose you'll just have to excuse Ichimaru-sama and his humour."

Again, Karin gave a dark smirk. "His _twisted_ humour."

Smoothing his hair, Ulquiorra tucked a curl behind his ear. "Why did you hug me… Karin?" He asked, tasting her name on his lips, unconsciously enjoying the sound of it.

She gave a deviant smile, a dimple appearing on her left cheek. "You really want to know?" Azure blue met jade green, a silent understanding between them, and she shrugged, looking away and breaking the connection; admitting quietly. "… I was lonely. I don't like being alone. Arrancars are united, in a weird and fucking depressing way – through their fear and despair." And Aizen worship. "But me? I'm human. I'm the only human here."

"You're a contradiction." The melancholic Arrancar stated simply, voicing his opinions. "And misery loves company – which is what you want."

"Maybe." Karin grinned, suddenly cheekier and more exuberant. "Or maybe I'm just plain weird. I am a Kurosaki, after all. Born to stick out."

The memories brought a rare and small smile to his face, quickly disappearing. "I will never understand humans."

"And you don't have to. You don't even have to understand me; but you have to look after me." She beamed at him, satisfied that she could see his smiles, although sadness was radiated from her luminous skin, glowing from the moonlight. Tilting her head to the barred window, her smile faltered to something vague, unrecognisable. Almost as if she resembled a caged bird once more. Karin longed for freedom of a different kind, a taste of the outside world, outside Hueco Mundo. What had happened to Karakura Town? She didn't condemn the place that she now lived, Hueco Mundo, because she _did_ like the life she was living, in a curious manner, but she was _bored_. Even if she could leave her room, provided Ulquiorra was with her, the same scenery has lost its charm.

"I spoke to Aizen-sama." Ulquiorra Schiffer informed her, observing how her head swivelled to see him, her dark blue eyes locking onto his bright green ones. And she bit her lip, a nervous habit of hers.

"… what did he say?" She asked quietly, trying to maintain a calm demeanour, hiding anticipation.

He paused, fitting words into place. "He agreed. You can visit Karakura Town for a while, provided you do something in return."

Another smile crosses her lips, this time more real, more honest, as if she was saying "it figured" and it startled him, even if his face didn't show his astonishment. For most of Kurosaki Karin's – Rin's – smiles were subtly twisted, oddly bitter in an unnoticeable way.

But _he _noticed. He _always_ noticed. Having known Karin from the start, from when she shook his hand as a formal greeting (after he'd 'abducted' her and she'd yelled at him, with no reaction) to this day, five years later, with her doodling a picture of him.

"There's always a price to what you desire. I know, I know." Looking up and stretching her arms, she shivered. "I thought that might be the case." Hesitating for a moment, Karin exhaled and asked the question on her mind. "He wants to see me, doesn't he?"

She didn't bother to say his name; they both knew who she was talking about.

"Today. Then you can go with some bodyguards. Naturally." He said, tonelessly.

Her lips parted, a small tongue licking red skin. "You just _can't_ leave me alone. I _always_ have to have some Arrancars with me."

"From a distance, yes. Aizen-sama was _not_ pleased with those stunts that you pulled in the past." Ulquiorra stated, recalling her stunts with disastrous results with ease.

Relenting for now, she sighed. "… I suppose it's to be expected. Still, you didn't have to be a pillow substitute." Was that a complaint or mere teasing? Her tone made it hard to tell. "Can't you just watch the door?"

"Perhaps." He inclined his head, and held his tongue. It was more interesting watching her. She was amusing, different yet similar to Inoue Orihime. "Though one could say that they are easily bored of watching the door."

"Misery loves company." She shrugged, grinning. "How much time do I have left?"

A ghost of a smile touched the corners of his lips, and Ulquiorra replied neutrally. "Thirty minutes."

Making herself look 'acceptable' for Aizen's standards took longer than thirty minutes.

"_Shit!"_

—

_Rin-rin!_

Haphazard footsteps turned into a sprint, following Ulquiorra Schiffer, who was waiting for her patiently. She knew she stuck out, dressed in black rather than white, but then technically she _was_ the black sheep of the 'family'. That, and she refused to wear white, hating the reminder of purity, untainted innocence, and she's rather lose herself to the darkness and be an outcast. To her chagrin, Ichimaru Gin had teased her attire because of her nickname, as _fitting_ as it was.

Breathing out, and composing herself to a calmer, relaxed Rin, known as the rogue. While she stayed here, the Arrancars called her 'Rin', but when she was on a mission, or fighting, Ichimaru had thought of another pseudonym for her. And like the previous _nom de plume_, she hated it.

It wasn't the shortened name that got on her nerves… it was the bell around her neck. Wasn't that going a bit too far? Again, credit went to Ichimaru who had bought the silver bell that hung on her neck. With a bitter smile on her pale face, she had to admit that his humour was fucking weird.

Opening the door, she stepped into another room of black and white, a mocking bow in the high chairs direction.

"You wished to speak with me, Aizen?"

"Yes. I did. Thank you for arriving punctually this time."

Her head tilted; the obvious look of confusion on her face. Black bangs slid over her face, porcelain skin whitening to the contrast of darkening eyes as she cast a glance in Ulquiorra's direction. They knew how to push her buttons, and she knew when it was happening; anger often blinding her judgement. Her hot temper was reminiscent of an orange strawberry. Blue eyes glittered maliciously, temper rising higher and higher. She had arrived _punctually_, when she had delayed her 'preparation' just so she could make a grand entrance and _be late_.

"You tricked me, you _fucking liar!"_ She yelled, embarrassed as a flush spread onto her cheeks.

The melancholic Arrancar shrugged, holding back a smirk, quite aware that Karin had no idea of how adorable she looked, making a scene when she had been played like a fool. Besides, only three Arrancars could calm her down, the rest being mutilated in some strange and disturbing way, and he was one of them.

_How astute._

"My mistake."

—

Nothing had changed. Nothing.

Or at least that was his first thought when Hitsugaya Toushirou stepped into Karakura Town for the first time in five years.

And then he remembered the family that was broken, separated, with no chance of reconciliation: two stuck here, one missing, the other not leaving. That family used to be normal… perhaps a tad odd, hot tempered and with high _reiatsu_ but… no, he decided, changing his mind. They were never normal; just plain weird. And that weirdness drew other people two them: their quirks, hates, addictions, roaring arguments and the scent of homemade baking. Because they lived a life far from normal, they became interesting.

What _happened _to make it go so wrong?

The silent question was always there, in some way, be it in the way people talked, they way they moved, or the way they ate.

"Ne, ne, Hitsugaya-taichou!" Matsumoto Rangiku grabbed his attention. "Are you going to stand there all day? Or are we going to shopping first?"

A mission to reduce stress? Utter rubbish.

Matsumoto had merely used him as an excuse to buy her own damn new clothes in the human world.

—

Breathing heavily, Hitsugaya Toushirou used _shunpo_ to escape from the heathen goddess of shopping, landing in front of a hill that he had once visited, to watch the sunset.

It was terrible.

_Never_ again would he agree to go shopping with his fukitaichou.

He could still hear them now: the screams, the ear-piercing yells of _"kawaii!" _and so on, which scarred his mind. He wasn't cute! He was tall. _Tall!_

It was embarrassing enough that he was the youngest _shinigami_ taichou and the shortest, and being mistaken for a child was notorious for him losing his temper and lowering his self-esteem. But… but now he was taller, skinnier, _handsomer_ than his fukitaichou (though she might disagree the last opinion) and _still_ they called him a kid.

It wasn't fair.

_But then, life wasn't fair,_ a ten year old girl sighed in his memories, ruffling his white hair and calling him an elementary student, immediately setting off his temper and her laughing fits. _It doesn't mean that you can't have a good time anyway._ It was strange, he liked her laughs, so natural, so _her_ and yet now, five years later, he couldn't remember what they sounded like, what she looked like.

_She _had asked him why he sat there, watching the sun set, and he'd answered, plain and simple, that it reminded him of home. She had smiled, a little sadly, a little wistfully and joined him in a comfortable silence.

He wondered what happened to her.

And wondered what had happened to the middle child of Kurosaki family, what had caused her to disappear.

Family? The feeling of uselessness and wanting to something about it? Was she fed up? Or was she just tired of seeing a family break up, filled with secrets and lies, piece by piece.

She was a quiet girl, he knew that instinctually, even when she was becoming mouthy when speaking, her volume increasing when she was caught up in a rant, and when she stopped, she faded into the background unless someone kept their eye on her, as she stayed quiet at the most curious times, and was, therefore, the most ignored, as she didn't participate in the melodramatic performance by her gullible family. And like her family, she worried, but didn't speak her doubts, hiding them as much as possible, trusting that time would make it better.

What had she felt before leaving Karakura Town?

But she was a mere memory that had been crystallized and shattered, and all he could remember of her were broken fragments that dispersed into the wind.

He shook his head and gazed at his metallic phone, searching for any Hollow activity, then satisfied with the results, slipped it back into his pocket and watched the blue sky, a content look adorned on his face.

And it was at that very moment that a soccer ball hit him on the head.

He turned, annoyed and easily caught the ball in his hands, looking up.

_Rin-rin!_

She froze, he froze and silence ensued.

A gangly girl stood there, dressed in black, head cocked to the side, hair sliding down her face, shadows obscuring her eyes, nose and mouth.

His face clouded, bemused at familiarly of the situation, the figure, the stance that the girl took.

And a grin crept onto her features, almost wolf-like, subtly twisted before disappearing hastily, although Hitsugaya could not see.

Non-stop, she chewed on the bubblegum on her mouth, blowing and bursting the bubble that she had made.

And she spoke.

"Well… _shit_."


	5. life, argumentative

**b u t t e r f l i i e . d r a g o n**

life, argumentative

"_I had a dream… about Yuzu."_

* * *

It's only a matter of time.

That much Kurosaki Karin knows.

Only a matter of time…

… before Rukia cracks.

—

Kuchiki Rukia has stood by Kurosaki Ichigo since the minute she laid eyes him, quickly understanding him and easily forging a relationship with him, a mixture of a mentor and a friend.

So naturally, it seemed inevitable to fall in love with him, after spending so much of her time watching him blossom and grow, lending him the power to be who is now. They were close, and the connection that they shared was uncanny. Whether it was intentional or unintentional, they knew what the right thing to say was in their dysfunctional manner, bouncing off each other and making them strive towards bigger and better goals.

And while they understand each other perfectly, they also _misinterpret_ the other person's feelings.

In short: Rukia loves Ichigo and Ichigo loves Rukia, but neither make a move or know about the opposite's sentiments towards them.

Idiots.

—

For Rukia, it doesn't take long to discern what the reason is behind Ichigo's vehemence in his latest battle. Unusually aggressive, there's anger behind his brown eyes. And while using this emotion is beneficial in slaughtering Hollows, when the emotion drains him of his strength, it is generally not a good sign. If he is too blind, it could cost him; if he is too cautious, the Hollow could adapt it to it's advantage.

"Ichigo!" She says, tugging the sleeve of his _kimono_, "what's the matter with you?"

And though she nearly flinches at the expression of pain that crosses his face, she does not look away.

Exhaling heavily, Kurosaki Ichigo rakes back his hair and admits to her. "… I saw Karin."

That explained everything, for Ichigo was always in a conundrum when concerning his sister: he was happy that she was back, but he hated what she had become. He felt guilty why she turned out like this, because if he hadn't become a _shinigami_, his little sister would not have turned out like this. And maybe he should have expected it, but he thought that they were _safe_…

Evidently, he was wrong, and his two sisters…

But not once did he blame her. He didn't believe that it was Rukia's fault.

"Oh." The black silk slides through her fingertips, never to be reclaimed.

"Yeah." Letting out a sigh, the orange-haired boy looks up to the sky of Seireitei. "It… _did not_ go well."

That's understatement, and Rukia knows it.

"She hates me, I get it. I just wish…" But he never finishes that tangent, though the shorter _shinigami_ has a good idea where it's heading. "It doesn't matter."

"Ichigo…" She can't bear it sometimes, how he tries so hard, and meets the brick wall every time with no hint of making a dent. He tries and he tries, and it comes to no avail. She hates him looking so defeated. And she can't stand it, because she likes him confident and idiotic, like how he gets riled up and how many teeth he shows in his scowl, though a smile suits him more than a frown. And Karin… Karin holds a part of his heart that she can never have; and Karin uses it to bring him down.

"It's okay. I'm okay." He offers a grin that doesn't reach his eyes, and smoothly transitions it to a haphazard shrug. "There's still time." And maybe he just can't resist to desire to change the expression in her eyes, but he ruffles her hair in any case, hoisting his _zanpakutou_ over his shoulder.

"Later Rukia."

He's gone.

Perhaps all they'll ever have is dusty breezes and half-hearted farewells.

—

Tick. Tick. Tick.

She counts the seconds by the beat of her heart, blackened by darkness. It's the only sound she can hear, if Karin doesn't count the drawn out breathing, _in… out… in… out…_ and the occasional moments that her legs push the chair, making it collapse and scrape across the ground. If she's particularly bored, she might hum a tune, use the chair as a substitute for a drum or chime noise from the black bars, with lazy flicks of her nails.

But she doesn't feel like making a racket, neither loud nor quiet; silence has a purpose, and right now it aids her drowsiness and lowering her eyelids…

Sleep is a coy thing, teasing her often and rarely granting it.

And—_oh._

Oh _great._ Just when she's about to have a fucking nap…

Dark eyelashes flicker open, shadowed eyes struggling to remain open and her attempt to stifle a yawn fails. Rubbing her eyes, she shifts her position, now gazing towards the bars and the person she is about to see, head propped between her shoulders, the lower legs lifting lethargically as if she is a normal teenage girl out on a slumber party, flicking through magazines and ready for gossip. Of course, she is doing no such thing, but nonchalance is quite effective in the art of pissing people off.

She knew it was going to happen.

But really, couldn't it have waited until _after_ she had a nice snooze?

Maybe if that had happened, she would have treated her guest nicely, or at least more civil than at the moment; a lack of sleep frays her temper and she is more indulgent of it in the face of insomnia. But then, she has no patience for this particular person, for she was the catalyst that sent the chain in motion.

So, with a drawl, a bored expression, she tilts her head to the floor where see can see the sandals of her visitor, and greets her, completely uninterestedly. "Hello, Rukia."

A moment of strained silence, then—

"Do you have any idea of what you've done?" It's a mixture of outrage and… despair, Karin decides with a roll of her eyes.

"To whom?" Examining her fingernails, she wonders if she should start growing her nails again; often a symbol for her. When damaged, her temperance was predisposed to outbursts. When left untarnished, she became happier, although when they became too long it became a problem… actually comparing her nails to her mood wasn't such a good idea, since lots of things attributed to it, and nails were more a subconscious thing than anything else.

"To Ichigo!" Infuriated at his little sister's uncaring attitude, there's an edge to Rukia's voice, one which tells Karin everything… and nothing at all.

"Oh. Him." Maybe she should push it. "That fucker."

That shade of crimson rage doesn't particularly suit Rukia, Karin muses, but it certainly is amusing to watch.

"That—Karin, he's your _brother!_"

"Yes, why _yes_ he is. _Thank you_ for noticing." Dryly, the younger girl deadpans, not caring in the least if she offends the great Kuchiki Rukia, apple of her brother's eye. "He's _my_ brother. Not _yours._"

"You have no idea about what you're talking about." Slightly mortified, she tries to act unaffected at the implication, though she fails in this attempt. "Kurosaki Ichigo is my friend, nothing more."

"Oh please." Snide, she cuts her calm pretence with a quick snap and sneer. "Don't play dumb with me. You really think I didn't notice? Did you take me for an idiot and not _notice?_ Oh, of course you did, silly. Rukia-_chan_, how thick _are_ you? It's plain to see that _you're_ in love with him!" Slow and patronizing, with just a _hint_ of a grin and Kurosaki Karin is revelling in this torment, there is an instant reminder of the third ex-taichou to Kuchiki Rukia, Ichimaru Gin, a cheeky leer always attached to his happy façade.

Kuchiki Rukia hides her shudder well. Even if he _was_ dead… he still gives her the creeps.

Acting as if nothing has happened, Karin continues, head resting on her hands, ready to inflict some damage control. "But that's the problem see – he never _will_ be yours. Not once. Never. He doesn't _like_ _you that way_; 'cause I've watched you two for a _very _long time, covering up your tracks, looking out for any sign that you two were hunting Hollows… and I saw. And believe me, the _most_ that Ichi-nii cares for is a close friend. _Maybe_ a sister, if he's feeling generous." Spitefully, she licks her lips, relishing the discomfort that she has caused. "But never more than that. Really, I'm doing you a favour, not vindicating you. I know, Rukia-_chan_. I know far my brother far better than you ever will. And trust me. Move on. 'Cause you're got no chance in getting your hopes high and thinking… _hoping_… wishing… _dreaming_… that one day he will be yours. He won't."

In some ways, she's happy to be behind bars, that way; she can mock people and lie as much as she wants without getting harmed. She can taunt and lie and spite and curse, and maybe she can't slither under people's skin like Ichimaru, but she can do a damn good job of it.

All it is for Kurosaki Karin is a small price of revenge. Bitchy, yes, but why should Karin care? Kuchiki Rukia is the one who made the chasm, the chaos happen in the first place.

Kurosaki Karin does not believe in fate, no matter what anybody says. People choose their path and walk it, regardless of where it leads, where in coincides and twists astray. Sometimes they change it, but they can never go back to where they originally started, no matter even if they think they do.

"I—"

"Rukia-san." Orihime diverts her attention with a soft smile, determined to break the atmosphere. "Uryuu-kun is looking for you. I thought you should know."

"Ah! Okay." Rukia nods. "I think… I'll go now. Thanks for telling me, Orihime."

Without a glance at the youngest girl, Kuchiki Rukia leaves, composing herself and reassuring herself that Karin has a grudge against her, and so surely, said that only to deceive her…

Right?

Karin yawns; wondering what could the auburn-haired woman in front of her want, since she hadn't left with Kuchiki?

_I guess I'll have to find out_. And stay awake at the same time.

"Karin-chan isn't very nice to Rukia-san." Orihime notes with a sigh, sitting down and leaning against the wall, settling in to a comfortable spot.

"Mm. Maybe. Who can say?" Idly, she rolls onto her back, absentmindedly agreeing with her. Truthfully, Karin makes it no secret that she _dislikes_ Kuchiki Rukia.

"You know, when I saw you for the first time, do you know what I thought?"

Karin arches one eyebrow. "Go on. Humour me."

"I thought you had the same eyes as Kurosaki-kun did. Not the same colour, but… the same warmth. Kindness." The auburn-haired woman smiles sadly. "I can still see it, but now, now it's not so visible as before."

"Ah, you should know, Orihime, that spending time in Hueco Mundo changes you. I just… changed more than you did." At least, with Inoue Orihime, she can empathize. She wasn't treated the same, but like her, she was the sole human in Hueco Mundo, isolated by the difference in race. It's harder to lose her temper with Orihime, just as it's harder to understand the older woman's odd sense of logic.

"Like a salad that has too many ingredients and has been baked for too long!" The older woman agrees with a simile.

"Yeah… if you want to see it that way, I suppose that could work." Karin slowly says; perplexed at why someone would compare salad and most likely _burning_ that salad to themselves… are salads even meant to be baked? "Do you have anything in particular to say to me, or…?" Trailing off, Karin relaxes, slowly succumbing to her bout of drowsiness.

The older girl has come here before; sometimes to chat, sometimes to bring food, sometimes for a different chain of scenery and get delusional idea that are pretty thoughts nonetheless. And Karin lets her, partly because she has no choice, and partly because they both were imprisoned in Hueco Mundo and this created a bond between them. It was… therapeutic, somewhat to talk to someone who had also been there, not at the same time, and relate to those odd stories. It's not a strong bond, tentative and breakable, because Karin can't handle trusting people and Orihime can't bear the thought of Kurosaki-kun getting hurt.

"I wanted to come to the rescue." But to whose, she will not say, with a vague grin and a cheerful outlook.

"How's the married life going?" Karin mumbles, closing her eyes.

That's right. She's a married woman, happily in love. And no matter how much her feelings are to Kurosaki-kun, they pale compared to Ishida Uryuu. He is the one who lets her fly.

"Wonderful!" Ishida Orihime beams, her wedding band shining brightly. "Actually, we're expecting kids."

"Congratulations." Shifting slightly, the younger girl sighs contently. At least one of them has a good life. Not that marriage doesn't have its trials and tribulations, but… still. Better than hers.

"Thank you."

If silence could be a blanket, Karin would snuggle it, in a vain hope of falling asleep faster. But the silence is comfortable; one she has grown used to, one she can share her secrets, and though she doesn't _trust_ Orihime, not completely, not like… she can tell her things of no great importance, confide and inquire about the outside world, be it living or dead. And Karin doesn't think that's trust exactly, not wholly. But it's somewhere along the way, and there hasn't been a reason not to…

"Orihime." Karin says, spindling one lock of hair around her fingers, and she's close now, so close to sleep… "I had a dream… about Yuzu."

Perhaps it's merely a dream, perhaps not. Twins are odd things, after all.

"I'm listening, Karin-chan."

"I think… she said she's waking up… said something like that…" _Said it's okay, and for me not to worry and some stupid thing similar to…_

It's too hard to resist the lull of sweet slumber, and maybe it's because Orihime is here with her odd company maybe not but…

Kurosaki Karin is finally asleep.

And Ishida Orihime gazes at the girl, a plethora of innocence and youth before her brown eyes, hidden behind the weary image that is shown when Karin is awake.

"Have a good sleep, Karin-chan." The older woman murmurs, taking her leave. She should check it out, just in case.

—

When the raven-haired girl wakes, she folds her hands behind her head, troubled by a lack of not remembering her dreams.

It's not the first time that she's had a dream about Yuzu.

… but it's the first time that Yuzu has said "come home".

And Karakura Town does not feel like home.


	6. the encounter

**b u t t e r f l i i e . d r a g o n**

the encounter

"_It's fun being demented. It makes us interesting."_

* * *

**One year ago.**

For a second, Kurosaki Karin thought she was dreaming.

And like all her dreams, the names of people she saw danced on the tip of her tongue and faded away to the swirling sea. All her dreams turned to nightmares, lest she dreamt of black nothingness. She had tried to forget; vain hopes of trying to ease the pain – it would be _better_ that way, because she would be the perfect _shinigami_ for Aizen.

So she submerged herself in becoming the very best, practising night and day, the art of _kidou_ and learning how to fight with a sword.

The faces blurred in time, dust covering their features, and the emotions dulled and the names didn't fall as easily from her lips.

But she always remembered that shade of aquamarine when she woke up. Aquamarine eyes that made her heart speed up and feel self-conscious…

Aquamarine eyes that haunted her.

Aquamarine eyes that stared at her at this very moment.

—

Karin wanted to say "pinch me, I must be dreaming", but that seemed far too cliché.

Instead she kept on chewing bubblegum, blowing and bursting and hearing the loud _pop!_ In the meantime, she sized up this familiar face in front of her.

She could see him clearly, the guy in front of her, staring at her incredulously. With a soccer ball in his hands. Hers.

Maybe she should kill him; it certainly would be an easy feat. But if she did it too soon, too quick, where would the fun be? Where would the drawn out screams and blood spill be? Her subtle smile lingered, before she fully focused him, taking in every detail, before it disappeared, changing in the sunlight.

She stepped back, memorising that face.

That _face…_

He had white hair, pretty hair, which looked as soft as snow. A tall frame, slim and muscular; two wiry arms, which was always nice to see. Then she noticed his eyes, strangely familiar. Intense aquamarine eyes.

And everything rushed back to her, too fast, too sudden.

It was _his_ eyes.

Hitsugaya Toushirou's.

The names. The faces. The contract. The pain. The sorrow. The emotion. The _guilt._

Of what she had done. Of what she had yet to do.

Everything came back.

"… shit." She mumbled, before she began to run.

Further and further away from him.

Her heart breaking one more time.

—

Hitsugaya Toushirou was unable to move, and couldn't figure out why.

He didn't know the girl who chewed bubblegum; he didn't know _why_ she seemed familiar to him. He couldn't feel his heart palpitating because he stopped listening to it the day Hinamori Momo fell into a coma. He couldn't tell that his body remembered what his mind had already forgotten.

He could only see her long raven-black hair that obscured her face and pink bubblegum that grew bigger and bigger until her shiny white teeth decided to pop it.

And he noticed that she took a step back.

_Who is she?_

He stared at her, almost as if he was trying to read her mind to figure out who she was.

The breeze lazily began to toy with her black hair, making it billow; and perhaps it was the change of light that let him glimpse her black eyes. Eyes similar to Kurosaki—

_Kurosaki… _

The girl tensed, clamming up, eyes darkening with an odd expression. Her hands curled up and he heard her speak.

"Well… _shit_."

_That voice…_

It's been five fucking long years since the middle child of the Kurosakis had disappeared from the face of the earth.

But still, Hitsugaya Toushirou had no idea who she is.

_Was it her?_

Five years ago, she sent a soccer ball flying in his direction. Five years ago, he had blocked merely because of his reflexes. Now, if she was the same person, hypothetically, why didn't he sense her _reiatsu_? Why didn't he sense it coming?

And… if she really was that girl, why did she look so different? Why didn't she run down to him, cool and casual, asking for the soccer ball in his hands? Unless…

Unless she was afraid of him.

He stepped forward; and she began to run.

Could she really be…

… _Kurosaki…_

…?

—

Somehow, Kurosaki Karin could not stop running. It felt that if she did, she'd have to face her past. And she didn't want that, not right now. Not until that fated day.

She didn't cry, because why would she _cry_ over such a _trivial_ thing like that? She was…

She was…

… just a heartbroken girl who couldn't abandon these feelings for him.

She was in love with him.

_After all this time!_ Karin furiously thought, not daring to glance back. _I can't face him! I'm such a coward…_

She would have continued to run and carry on aimlessly wandering through the streets of Karakura Town until she had nowhere to go; would have gone back to her two Arrancar bodyguards; or done something, just to get away from Hitsugaya Toushirou.

But she stopped. Though not of her own accord.

_Rin-rin!_

The bastard – _he_ – had his hand enclosed around her wrist, with a surprisingly strong grip that was hard to break-free. And since her legs were stuck mid-air, going through the running motions, she inevitably stumbled backwards, losing her balance. At least, Karin would have done, had Toushirou not caught her.

"Oi. You forget your ball." The tenth taichou stated calmly, noticing the girl flinch when he spoke. Who _was_ she anyway?

"My… ball?" She echoed slowly, faintly bewildered at what he was talking about, before she remembered: eyes sparkling as she recalled that she was chasing the ball… and found _him_.

And then she burst out laughing, a bubble of emotion than anything else. Throwing her head back, her shoulders rose up and down; acutely, she felt his hand loosen his grip of her, but she still continued to laugh, oddly relieved. It sounded almost like her old carefree laughter, back when she ten, yet there were trace hints of subtle bitterness, small hints of hatred and revenge laced through spontaneous mirth.

He hadn't chased her for _her_; he only wanted to return the soccer ball. How _sweet._

Hitsugaya Toushirou gaped. To say that he was stunned was an understatement. He had barely said a few words to her, and she was laughing. _Laughing_ for no apparent reason. At what? Him? Herself? The stupid ball that hit his head? What?

And… why did it seem like… like he knew her? Her laugh was like a haunting melody that ran through his blood, a lullaby of dreams, yet the owner of the voice became a mystery. Between the moments of sleeping and waking, he had seen a face, with blue eyes and black hair. Short and spunky hair, a little jagged around the edges. But that girl was a dream, surely a dream and nothing more.

Her laughter faded and she turned to face him, a smile on her heart shaped face.

He didn't notice that it was a fake grin.

"Long time no see. How have you been, Hitsugaya?" Brushing off the dust as if she was completely comfortable in her skin, she waited for him to reply while letting her skin soak in the sun. It had been too long. When he didn't do anything, she continued as if it didn't bother her. "Cat got you tongue? Or has Matsumoto-san been driving you up the wall?" With a tease, a different kind of grin slid onto her face.

"Shut up!" Hitsugaya Toushirou retorted instinctually. "Kurosaki."

Karin tilted her head, eyes wide and face innocently curious. "Oh? You remember my name?" Her voice showed her surprise. "What's my other name then, Hitsugaya?"

The tenth taichou stared at her. "Excuse me?"

"_My_ name. Not my family name." Karin patiently explained, looking downcast as if all her hopes were diminishing. But she smiled, the corner of her mouth rising a little bit. _Good._

"…" Racking his mind, nothing came. He saw ghostly spectres and a growing headache, but no answer to her question.

"Aw. I was kinda hoping that you would remember." The girl pouted. "What a cruel heart you have, Hitsugaya."

It was better that they acted like perfect strangers, even though she would never be able to resist teasing him.

"Who are you?" There was an edge to his voice.

Karin's eyes darkened, though her face emotionless. Fun and games was over, it appeared; though she might be able to maintain it for a few more moments. "I wonder, is you heart frozen?"

"I _said_ who are you?" Hitsugaya reached out to grab her wrist, but she had smoothly stepped back, the soccer ball in her hand. She must have taken it without him realizing. Odd…

Acting like a court jester, she bowed, mocking him, far too melodramatic. "I suppose you wouldn't be satisfied if I told you that you technically have answered your own question, I presume?" She paused, receiving no answer as the seconds passed by. "Then I suppose I am the forgotten Kurosaki. It starts with a 'K'." She added, grinning.

"I know that. What do you think I am?" He shot back, annoyed by her.

"An elementary student." She easily countered, grinning once more, amused by how cheeky she could get. "Or… maybe an idiot. Depends which view you take."

Pity she couldn't use 'midget' anymore. He'd certainly grown.

"_What did you_—"

"And now, I so sorry to say, your grace, I've got to go." Karin interrupted; spinning the ball in her hand and making it turn grey. She twirled and began to walk away.

"Hey. How do you know about Matsumoto?" Hitsugaya Toushirou asked quietly. It was one thing to know him; it was another to know his fukitaichou.

Karin sighed, stopping in her tracks, but refusing to face him. If she did, her beating heart may not handle it. She should just go, ignore him, get out, far, far, far away from him. But she _couldn't._ She—

She should not continue that thought.

Her hands clenched, trying to ignore the beat that pulsed within her head. Her back was firm and tall, and Karin would not let him see her expression on her face. It was much better to walk away and forget that this encounter had ever happened.

"You… you really don't remember me from five years ago… do you, _Toushirou_?" Karin sadly whispered.

Something clicked. Something shattered. Something broke. Something, something, something and Hitsugaya Toushirou had no idea that it was happening. All he could do was stare at her. "You…"

_Memories. Faces. Laughter. Hollows._

_A soccer ball match._

Blasé, she shrugged; it was all in the past and the bond that tethered them was forgotten in the skin deep surface. They lived in separate worlds.

"Well, I tried. Tell me 'happy birthday' on May 6th, alright?"

This time she walked forward and did not stop. At the back of her mind, she wondered if he would remember.

"See ya, Hitsugaya."

He didn't bother to say farewell. Only closed his eyes, thinking why those words, flickers of something still did not make sense.

_An elementary student._

_A leg injury._

_Five goals._

_And a silent black-haired girl who called him Toushirou._

_It starts with a 'K'…_

All these clues still don't answer who that girl is.

—

Jade eyes gazed at a girl.

She looked so innocent, so happy, so free and so… at peace with herself.

It was hard to remember that it was a mask; and that she had been under orders to kill anyone who recognized her, as part of her bartering with being able to visit Karakura three times. She could visit, provided that she could do one small task for Aizen-sama and make sure that her bodyguards would accompany her, or at least be stationed nearby. But then such was her mask, carefully constructed and practised with Ichimaru.

She was humming and kicking a football. As if she was no better than a child.

Electric blue eyes glanced at the petite girl, a twist grin on his face, more feral than ever. His arm lazily slung back, reclining on the tree, quite aware that he could demolish it in a second; all three of them could within the bat of an eye. Except that the girl had a penchant for scenery and the green eyed Arrancar would prefer that they didn't make evidence of their visit in the mortal world.

"Did you find him?" The girl quietly asked, finally taking notice of him and finishing her activities with the soccer ball.

"Nah, I couldn't sense him." Frowning and glaring at Ulquiorra, he answered. "Doesn't matter, I'll get him."

She gave a small giggle, broken down by despair. "Sweet revenge."

"You and me, bitch. You can fight him first."

"How kind of you." She replied, giving the soccer ball a hard kick, not bothering to collect it. Watching it soar, she asked. "What brought you into a good mood?"

"Tch. Does it matter?"

"Think he'll be mad?" Tilting her head, the girl glanced at the sky, her actions reminding them that she still was a child, something that wasn't them. It was hard to remember that most of the time she stayed silent, quite alright in doing their bidding, but she wasn't afraid to stand up to herself. Besides, she was always in the mood for fun and games, lest she turned sour.

"How the fuck I should I know? Shock him, betray him, do whatever the hell you want. _Then_ kill him. But save some for me." He leaped towards her, crouching, grinning as she didn't react, her mind far away. He knew what she was talking about; both could hardly wait. Almost gently, he began to trace her face.

"You flatter me." She blushed as his hand touched her silky black hair, rippling like a curtain.

"Bitch." He replied absentmindedly, picking her up by her waist and slinging her over his shoulder, making the girl laugh.

The other Arrancar tried to stifle his displeasure; but Rin was very good at focusing at the small details. Five years was a long time and she knew what to look for.

"Hey, Ulquiorra? You okay?" Her dark blue eyes fixated on him, giving Ulquiorra her full attention.

Strangely, as he began to open his mouth to speak, the words were lost on his tongue.

"Leave him alone." The other Espada grunted. Rin was _his_, not Ulquiorra's.

Rin ignored him.

"… I am fine, Rin." The melancholic Arrancar replied, finding the words at last. "Why do you care?"

"Hmm…" Rin hummed, musing for her answer, forehead creased. "Could it be that I _like_ you? Could it be that we're _friends_? Or could it be that you've always been there? I don't know, take your pick. The answer is oh-so-hard to choose."

The sight was fairly amusing to see, as she was leaning completely on the other Arrancar's back, still upside down, her long black hair barely reaching the ground, millimetres away from toughing it. There was that and a sly grin on her face.

Ulquiorra raised an eyebrow. "Stay away from Ichimaru-sama." The resemblance was uncanny.

"I suppose you don't like smiley people. Oh well." The black haired girl commented. It didn't stop her from smiling.

"Ichimaru ain't_ smiley_." Grimmjow Jeagerjaques snorted. "He's a fucking snake-clown."

"And yet, _he_ doesn't use face paint."

"Bitch."

"Jaques." She grinned in return, using her pet name for him.

Ulquiorra remained silent from their exchange, frowning at the feeling that burned inside him.

It was… curious. Odd. Strange. It only happened with _one_ person, but it was enough to disturb him. His stomach twisted, his chest seemed constricted and he didn't know why he wanted to rip out the other Arrancar's head off. For a while, the time he spent with her was considered consistency; he saw her often enough and it became part of his routine to see her every day, her presence enough to brighten his day by her smiles alone. Perhaps 'consistency' needed a promotion… to 'attachment'.

It happened at unimportant times of the day, when he suddenly stopped moving and then his thoughts traced back to her, unconsciously memorising key features: her lips, her silky hair – becoming longer and longer each day, and her slightly parted red lips. Days passed by and he found himself thinking about she interacted with him – leaning on him for comfort, sharing some of her meals and then asking if she could draw him. For boredom's sake. All of which was formally and politely declined… until her temper got the best of her and stuffed food in his mouth or she threw the sketchbook at her, fortunately missing him had he not moved.

He had to say that the food really was deliciously prepared. It beat tea. Although, Karin didn't like tea, he recalled as he savoured the flavour.

Arrancars couldn't feel – they had no hearts. He believed that the heart faded into darkness and therefore, Arrancars lacked emotions. In that case, theoretically, what he was feeling – or _felt_ – could not possibly be an emotion such as _jealousy._

"We should go." Ulquiorra stated softly.

Karin looked at him, and then stuck her tongue at the Arrancar who carried her. "Sure, if you want to."

"Not like that." Ulquiorra added, disproving of their behaviour, gliding his hand to put jet-black locks of hair behind his ear.

"Tch. _Fine._" Grimmjow Jeagerjaques grudgingly scowled, dropping Rin quite suddenly.

"_Bastard._" She smirked, ending up in a handstand thanks to her quick reflexes.

"_Bitch._" He smirked back, raking his hand through his tousled hair. "Want me to walk you through Hueco Mundo like that?"

"How?" Rin asked, balancing on one hand and tilting her head.

The Arrancar with blue eye shadow gave an exasperated growl, grabbing her skinny ankles. "Like _that._"

"Ah. I see. Thank you, for enlightening me."

Refusing to roll his eyes one more time, Ulquiorra opened the door to Hueco Mundo.

"You two are no better than trash."

Pouting, a red hue on her cheeks, Rin asked him, clearly teasing. "Since when did you become so mean?"

"…"

Ginning somewhat sadistically, the Arrancar holding Rin's ankles directed her forward, giving the fifteen-year-old girl the sensation of being a mannequin. Joining in, she added her own insane grin.

Barely refraining from a face-palm, Ulquiorra spoke. "Remind me, why are you doing this?" _Again_ did not need to be said. Exhaling slowly and closing his eyes in a gesture that could be mistaken as a sigh, Ulquiorra moved forward. He knew why she did it – which was why it was completely illogical by his reasoning. It did however, have interesting effects. And the chain of reactions that followed afterwards were… sometimes… amusing.

"Because," Rin began, smug. "It's fun being demented. It makes us interesting."

"Damn right." _Jaques_ agreed.

Recklessness. Destruction. Mayhem. Havoc. Fanatical laughter. And not to mention those savage grins.

_Kami-sama._ He was surrounded by idiots.

"I'm not going to argue with you, but I expect Aizen-sama will want explanations."

Her mouth quirked into a smile. "For what? He gave me what I wanted, and now I gotta pay him back. Easy." Rin refrained from shrugging, partly because she had shrugged in a handstand before and the results were awkward. "I'm kinda sorry that you're not coming with us, Ulquiorra."

He was too.

"Least ya got me." The other Arrancar added, determined not to be forgotten.

"Yep. And Wonder-kid." Her smile grew, twisting with every second. "It's going to be so much _fun!_"

Ulquiorra regarded her, wondering if that she would really feel that way when the day came.

"… let's just go." The serious and most importantly – _blank_ expression was back on.

"_Bastard._" The other two simultaneously. Ulquiorra could already see the wide grins without even seeing their faces.

"Cute." He said as he entered into the gate.

Jacques and Rin followed, sniggering; one in a handstand, the other propelling her forward. It was an interesting sight.

The door closed behind them, making a distorted sound as it did so.

—

A buxom _shinigami_ suddenly appeared.

She scratched her head, confused. "What the…?"

Silence. Grass. Birds chirping.

A lone soccer ball.

"Dammit."

"Something wrong, Matsumoto?" A bored voice sighed, making the ginger-haired woman jump.

"_Taichou!_" She shrieked, before replying in a calmer and quieter voice. "I thought I sensed…"

"What?" Aquamarine eyes gazed at her, before scanning the area.

There was nothing interesting here, so what was that earlier feeling…?

"An Arrancar. But it's not here. I can't sense it."

A lone soccer ball…

"… right."

"I got here too late. I'm sorry." Matsumoto Rangiku tried to apologize, head slightly downcast, "but—"

"It'll be back. Sooner or later." Her taichou told her. "You'll get your chance. Just be patient."

"Yes, taichou."

Frowning, Hitsugaya Toushirou concentrated.

"Was that soccer ball here when you came?" He asked, pointing at the black and white object.

"Yes, taichou."

"Then… she's already come here." His eyes misted, remembering the odd girl.

At this, Matsumoto's ears perked up and her eyes began to sparkle. "Who? Someone you like? Have you stopped—"

Hitsugaya Toushirou_ looked_ at her.

"—_liking_ Karin-chan?" She faltered, changing her words at the last moment.

_He didn't know_, that much she realized, although the fukitaichou had known for quite some time.

It was true that her taichou was the youngest of the Gotei Thirteen, and one of the cleverest people that she knew, but sometimes he was so _stupid._ Blind and helpless and cute and kind of short and ignorant to his beating, frozen heart; such a lifestyle could only last for so long.

His mind ruled his heart after all.

_Karin._

_Karin._

_Starts with a 'K'._

His aquamarine eyes softened, vaguely remembering that name, completely unaware of it and slowly, as if he was from a dream, murmured, surprising Matsumoto Rangiku:

"Was she… Kurosaki Karin?"


	7. life, flickering

**b u t t e r f l i i e . d r a g o n**

life, flickering

"_You… you're different when I'm with you."_

* * *

He can feel it; the _poison_ corroding his skin, wanting to remain in his blood, taking and taking and never giving up.

But this time, he _wants _to remember: and that makes all the difference.

His head aches, he feels it throbbing and pounding, like his brain is trying to relinquish its bindings and be free. It's almost like a scream and his ears are ringing, ringing, ringing—

And if a little bit of pain is the price to pay for recovering memories that are _his_, then it'll all be worth it.

—

It starts with a wave of dizziness, a hint of nausea and then – then…

The memories swallow him up, unrelenting.

—

_She looks thin, coming out of the building that has decided what Soul Society will do with her; a different sort of victim to the war. She isn't given the penalty of death like Aizen, Tousen and Ichimaru. Instead, she is their prisoner, someone who can never regain their former self thanks to the brutal manipulations of all the residents of Hueco Mundo. But Kurosaki Ichigo believes in her; believes that she can change; believes that she isn't a threat to Soul Society. Others cruelly murmur behind his back that he only believes in one of the three. _

_She looks thin and pale and gloomy and miserable and oh, he can taste the loneliness that brings her down._

_Walking slowly, she comes to a halt, pausing and looking up, her dark eyes glancing all around, searching and searching and finding his._

_And it's like he has forgotten to breathe, because he can see so much in her eyes._

_Pain, hate, bitterness, loathing._

_She doesn't have to say a thing, her eyes tell it all._

_For some reason, he can't look away, drawn to the skinny girl._

_But she does. She looks away. She breaks the eye contact and walks onwards._

"_Man, that Kurosaki Karin." Someone says beside him, shaking their head. "Definitely a creepy child."_

_There are many words to describe her; that much Hitsugaya Toushirou is certain._

_But creepy is not one of them._

—

_There's a note on his desk: __**Kurosaki Karin joining Soul Society Academy today.**_

_He could sigh in frustration, crumpling up the sheet of paper, tossing it only the floor. A girl is going to the Academy. A girl who is like no other; just the same as the rest of the new entrants, and is about to understand the basics of being a shinigami. And maybe, if she's lucky, she'll get a seated position. Perhaps she'll be a genius, completing the course under a year; perhaps not._

_It is no matter of importance to him._

_And yet…_

_As he looks under the discarded paper, he notices another notice. Well, two – both on the same sheet, yet in different handwriting._

_The first: __**Congrats on the new position! Best of luck. You will be an incredible soutaichou! :)**_

_Unbelievable. There is actually a smiley face. But that's Ukitake Juushirou for you._

_The second: __**You have to make a speech to the new students. Ten o'clock. Don't be late.**_

_Stifling a groan, Hitsugaya Toushirou wonders why nobody informed him of this._

_He could improvise the speech on the spot – they'd never have to know._

… _except, it's rather hard to concentrate when a bored, black-haired student who is yawning and not even glancing in his direction, is getting on his nerves._

—

_It's not stalking. It's… curiosity. _

_He is discretely wondering how her progress at the Academy is and if he does it once – it doesn't count as 'stalking'._

_It is observation, research – seeing how she reacts to this life, different to what she is used to._

_She sits at the back of the class, head in her hands, glumly listening to the lecture, spinning her pencil between her fingers and transferring it from one end to the other, back and forth, as if there's nothing else to do._

_She doesn't interact with the rest of the class – not if she can help it. Occasionally, she'll raise her hand, knowing the answer that others do not, but most of the time, she stays quiet, deep in thought._

_Maybe she notices him, maybe she doesn't._

_There are moments in her class when he thinks she's looking straight at him._

—

"_My name is Kurosaki Karin." She says, eyes slanted, arms folded, as she sits cross-legged on the desk. "Please leave me the fuck alone."_

"_Alright. Alright. Easy there." The classmate laughs awkwardly, shrugging it off. "We're not all bad guys, you know."_

_Karin shrugs noncommittally and not inclined to answer. She doesn't look at him, drumming a tune on her elbows. Almost as if she can't stand the sight of him._

"_Weirdo." Someone mumbles audibly, gaining no attention from the target._

"_Guys… class is starting. We wouldn't want to make the teacher mad, would we? Listen, just do as she says, and leave her alone."_

_It's the start of a rift._

_And sooner or later, they are going to resent her for her behaviour._

—

_There's always someone there to accompany her as she leaves the Academy. Sometimes it's Ishida Orihime, sometimes it's the guards that lead her to prison, sometimes it's someone else; sometimes there's a pattern, and sometimes there's none at all._

_It's never Ichigo, never Rukia. Oh, they might come, standing in the shadows, hoping that she might notice, hoping that she doesn't and never will, but they don't talk to her, as if her very presence makes them uncomfortable and they don't know how to react, blinded by guilt and apprehension. Because they can tell._

_She hates them._

_And she cannot forgive them._

_Not yet._

_And one day she stops, breaking away from mid-conversation, muttering a curse under breath and rolling her eyes. And she glares in his direction._

"_Okay. You know what, Hitsugaya? I'm getting a little tired of being stalked. I don't care if any of my classmates can't sense you. I __**can**__. And it's bugging me. So, please, Hitsugaya – if you have something to say – then for fuck's sake: just __**fucking**__ say it! I go to class – you're there, hiding. I lag behind – again, you're there, wherever the hell that is. I go out – and oh, I'm sorry, I can sense you once again. And believe me, I've been kind. I've been patient. I've waited for quite some time, 'cause I thought, 'you know, what the heck, he's bound to talk to me at some point'. But it's been a while, and quite frankly, I've had it. So, if you __**have **__anything to say – then just say it."_

_She walks straight towards him, keeping in sight of the guards, ignoring the temptation to run off._

_Then she stops, head cocked to the side, face set in stone, eyes challenging, hands on hips. _

"_Go on then."_

_There's nothing stopping him._

_But… he has nothing to say._

"_Give me a break." She snaps, fed up. "I give you time to get things in your head sorted, and you have nothing? Kami-sama. Even __**rocks**__ make better conversation than you. Don't tell me that you're going to stay silent after I've gone all this way…"_

_The fact is that Karin has a way of being disconcerting and making people's head's go blank in a number of seconds because she has such an aggressive front._

_She rolls her eyes and sighs. "Ah, jeez, if you're going to be like this, I might as well shoot myself. I bet reincarnation is a lot more interesting that talking to you." Her smile grows bitterly, amused. "Only problem with that is that I have no gun. Shame."_

_Turning away, she hesitates, tapping her foot and relenting. She faces him once more._

"_Okay. If you actually have something to talk about; I'm all ears. You know where I'll be."_

"_And where's that exactly?"_

_Her leer widens, and her face speaks volumes of incredibility. In fact, she actually laughs at him. It is so hollow and empty and broken that it sends shivers up his spine. "Why, Hitsugaya, where else would I be, if not here? In my cell, of course!"_

"_You may not talk to the soutaichou that way!" The guards bark at her, and she stops once more, taken off guard._

"_**Soutaichou**__. That's interesting. I guess you got yourself a promotion then." And Karin claps, three slow patronizing times. "__**Very**__ well done. Guess that explains what you were doing at the Academy the first time, at least."_

_He should say something – tell her that she can only treat him with respect, since she clearly has none. But… it's a shock. How down to earth she treats him. Kind of refreshing._

"_Whatever. See you around, or not." Offering a half-hearted wave from the back of her hand as she retreats back to her cell, she does not look back._

_There's an inexplicable rage that follows that afternoon, blamed on a lack of sleep._

_Sleep… right._

—

_There's no improvement to Hinamori Momo. Although she has to wake up at some point, it feels like she is going to be in an eternal slumber._

_He is not a prince from some fairytale. He can't kiss her and make the spell undone. He can't do anything but wait._

_So he takes a walk, and finds himself entering the prison, where… a dark-haired girl is, sprawled on the floor, and trying to find a comfortable position._

"_You know, chairs really aren't comfortable if you sit on them for so long." She says, examining her fingertips from far away, noticing that someone has come, but not the person himself. "Especially these. No cushion, you know?"_

"_No. Can't say that I do." Toushirou replies honestly. He's never been imprisoned._

"_Huh?" She rolls to face the bars – face him, mouth ajar in an expression of surprising, quickly reddening. "Oh… it's you. Seems like you took up my offer, even though I didn't really expect you to…" She trails off, coughing and having the grace to appear a little bit ashamed. "Look, I'm sorry about last time – I was having a crappy day. You were the final straw, and my temper just burst…" She stands up, brushing away the dirt and stepping closer towards him. "I promise to be civil."_

"_Okay."_

"_So, first things first: what are you doing here?" Though her expression is a bit bemused, she cuts straight to the point._

_As he speaks, he realizes how easy it is to talk to her, although her occasional remarks bite back and need idle banter, which take them into tangents._

_Yet talking to her… it's like stress relief. And who is she going to bitch about these problems to?_

"_I better go." He says, standing up once more. How could he lose track of the time?_

"_Oh yeah?" Lifting one eyebrow up, she grins slowly, the very corners of her mouth slightly upturned and there's something quite mischievous about the way she looks at him. "Come back any time. I'll be here."_

_He doesn't discover that there's a matching smile on his face until someone points it out._

_And he is far away from the prison at that point._

—

_She seems more interested in kidou lessons than any of the other lessons in the curriculum. Konsou – the theory of it, at least – bores her; zanpakutou lessons – also makes her yawn and no one is ahead like her, but then no one is a prisoner like her._

_She's crap at performing it, and she disregards the disdainful statements from her class at her bad attempts. But she snorts and she laughs and at times, if she's very lucky, she can make other people beside her blow up too, insisting that it's an accident and 'it won't happen again'; though he's fairly certain that it will._

"_You're doing it on purpose." He says to her, covertly glancing at the surrounding crowd, who pay no attention to them. Nonetheless, Toushirou speaks quietly, as if they are in a conspiracy and they don't want anybody to overhear them._

"_Am I? Am I __**really**__?" Leaning in, she narrows the distance between them, barely on the brink from daring him to say otherwise, quite amused. "Prove it."_

_That is something he cannot do. Well… unless he actually memorized her level of reiatsu every time she practised kidou. But that would have to be next time._

"_Soutaichou!" The guards salute. "That's Kurosaki Karin—"_

"_I know who she is. She'll be with me." Curtly, Hitsugaya Toushirou responds, not even batting an eyelid._

"_Have no fear; he'll take me back where I belong – to the dungeons and for me to form alliances to the rats." Dryly remarking, she waves them away, quite casual before returning to face him and adding as an afterthought. "Maybe that was too much."_

"_Mm." Truthfully, he has no say on the matter._

"_Are we going anywhere?" Karin asks, blasé and mildly inquisitive. _

_Maybe it's because her presence is easy-going that he murmurs, more to himself than her. "I have no idea."_

_Karin doesn't really care where she is going unless it's back to prison once again._

"_Well. That's okay. I'm fine with whatever you choose."_

—

"_You've changed." _

_She's tapping a tune into the black bars and squatting when she replies absentmindedly. "Oh yeah? Do you actually believe that?"_

"_Believe what?"_

"_That people change." She innocuously counters, shrugging, not meeting his eyes. "Do you think that they can really change? Or that they can't change, not completely. Which one do you think is true?"_

"_I think people can change." He answers, a little stiffly, reiatsu flaring._

"_Whoa, there. Didn't mean to offend; after all, I promised, didn't I? I promised to remain civil to you." Hands up in a surrendering position, she stops tapping with the bars. "But that's nice. You're an optimist. Or maybe you're a realist that gives people the benefit of the doubt, unless with proof otherwise. I wonder if there's a difference between the two." Mulling over this, she stands up, her lips pressed together, fascinated by the behaviour of people._

"_Why are you like this?" He asks._

"_Like…? Like what?" And just like that – her guard is up, on the defensive._

"_You treat me different. And I'm not talking about being 'civil'. You… you're different when I'm with you." The words flow naturally, and he can't help but watch her cheeks burn red._

"_Hitsugaya." She eventually says, trying to maintain an unfazed façade. "Come closer."_

_He does so._

"_Closer."_

_A little warily this time, he steps forward._

"_You really think I'm going to hurt you?"_

_The only that separates them now are the cold black bars._

_She flicks his forehead, right between the eyes._

"_Fucking moron." She scowls, avoiding his gaze. But her cheeks are brighter than ever. "For a soutaichou, you sure are stupid…"_

_It's got to be a trick of the light; dusk is manipulative in prison._

_That's the only logical solution._

"_Shut up."_

"_Make me." Cheekily, she retorts._

"_What the fuck was that for?" His temper rising, Hitsugaya steps away from the bars and out of her reach. _

"_Mm… you deserved it!" No matter how pretty her smile may be – it cannot be forgiven!_

_Nobody flicks Hitsugaya Toushirou's forehead and lives to tell the tale._

"_Why you—"_

"_Soutaichou!" The guard gets his attention, breaking the atmosphere that they produced. "Hinamori Momo has awakened."_

_And that changes everything; and Karin is gone from his mind because Hinamori—Hinamori takes priority while Karin is a pastime. Karin fades into the background and is left behind as Hinamori Momo wakes up into the world that Aizen Sousuke no longer exists._

_Hitsugaya Toushirou doesn't say a thing, he doesn't have to._

_He has already forgotten about Kurosaki Karin._

_And so he doesn't see Karin spit and slump onto the ground, muttering to her self._

"_Ain't life a bitch."_

—

_The next time he sees her, she throws her chair at him._

—

It's slow. It's painful. But—

Like a jigsaw puzzle, things are sliding into place.


	8. the dissonance

**b u t t e r f l i i e . d r a g o n**

the dissonance

"_How long can you wait before people fucking give up?"_

* * *

**One year ago.**

Silence.

It's an odd concept that brought forth different sensations at different moments.

One that isolated people and made them feel consumed in their sorrows, drowning themselves in the sea of despair unless they created a noise – greater than the silence, greater than echoing thoughts that go unheard in people's heads – that's why some people sang absentmindedly, talked to strangers for no apparent reason or bring along an music player – so someone created a pretty harmony to break the silence and soothe the sentiment of seclusion.

Another view was that silence conveyed a sense of security, where people were able to quell their worries and process their thoughts. So to speak, it gave people the clear ability to think and consider consequences and repercussions, without distractions or pending errors.

It forced people to be on the alert, acutely honing in to small sounds.

And silence scared people.

There was nothing more frightening than the aftermath of an event.

Or the calm before the storm.

—

Noise.

What a fucking delight. There's nothing more exciting than the feeling of adrenaline rushing through her veins, blood pumping so loudly that only instinctive impulses guided her, and thoughts that screamed so loudly that must be obeyed. It exhilarated her – like Grimmjow and his vulgar mouth, Ulquiorra once commented, disdainful as if he did not approve of their similarities.

Ulquiorra Schiffer's _reiatsu_ always changed when he compared her to the Sexta Espada, and Karin noticed it. She _always _noticed it, but thought nothing of it. Of course, she had observed the tension between them, but somehow, whenever she was around them, their _reiatsu_ lowered. Unconsciously, she acted as a median between them, with a cheeky sparkle in her eye and a twist to her mouth.

However, they couldn't be her bodyguards forever, and the two didn't blame her if she sometimes tried to escape them, like prey trying to outrun the predator; and it became a game of sorts – how much she could evade them before they could catch up. Escape was impossible in Las Noches. At least, attempting to escape single-handedly was impossible, if not downright dumb. And besides, her methods of escapism were… drastic, if not creative; both amusing and shocking on her part. Most Arrancars became baffled, cut down or entertained – side effects from her antics.

But noise… however effective it may be, was useless in the art of stealth. Leaning against the wall, Karin stood with her arms crossed, one shoulder seeking support with the smooth surface of the wall; her head tilted in interest at the smiling Arrancar in front, and who had taken no notice, if any, of her. Just this once, she didn't mind – for it could be subtly turned into a game, and playing dangerous games was a terrible addiction of hers. An authentic grin crept on her face, one which the 'boy', if he could be called that, might see if he glanced her way.

Yet he didn't, preferring to dance and spin, dipping his finger in buckets of multicoloured paints and adding lines and blots and splashes of colour across the walls, forever an incomplete canvas. His blond hair bounced, radiating exuberance that the small child contained, despite his pale appearance; Karin couldn't help it, she giggled, at his _simplicity_… the childlike essence that seemed a contradiction in itself, never ceasing to make Kurosaki Karin laugh light-heartedly.

Turning imperceptibly at the sound, his amethyst eyes flickered somewhat, before blinking and recognising the girl before him. His fumbling mouth, which gave so many ecliptic grins, widened, before he ambled towards her, off kilter until he stumbled over his feet and clumsily hit the ground, his expression remaining bemusedly happy as before.

Crouching, her head in her hands, her hair spilled like a fountain, gently sliding down her shoulder. Karin grinned at him, devious and mischievous and very, very childish, mirroring the Arrancar in front of her. "Hey there, Wonder-kid. Did ya miss me?"

"Ra… Ra… _Rin_!" Wonderwice Margera mumbled, eventually raising his voice in excitement with every word he made; his chubby hand reaching out to stroke her silky locks, tangling his finger in darkened tresses. He was the eccentric Arrancar; the oddity; and someone who Karin was fond of. Those flaws, those irregular behaviour patterns and speech difficulties just made Karin think that he was even more adorable than before. A different kind of innocence… that she appreciated with a sad gleam; Margera was a light in the darkness… when no one else was around.

"Kiddo, if you're not careful, my hair is going be all colourful! Actually, considering that it might piss Tousen off… you can continue." She pouted, before smiling again, a strange smile that was twisted only faintly. "You are such a weird kid."

"… ah."

Out of habit, she flicked his button-like nose, merely observing his reaction for a minute or so. She'd seen it all before; the widened eyes, the fleeting sensation of pain, and then the ever adoring expression reappeared on his pale face; but it never changed and that was what amused her so.

Karin sighed, and lay on the ground, stretching and joining Wonderwice with his activity of gazing at the ceiling. Casually, she ruffled his blond hair, mildly curious at how many freckles were on his face, vaguely remembered that she had attempted to try counting before – but the Arrancar kid had moved to much, never staying still and restarting the process of counting a hopeless cause. She saw herself in him, sometimes, her tired mind would reluctantly admit: he was restless and searching for something that he'd never find. He'd let the world pass him by, and he wouldn't care, so long as he still existed. So long as he was needed by someone.

"Hey, Wonder-kid, what do you think you'll do, after all this is over?"

"… ah?"

"I hope you don't die. You're such a sweet kid."

"… ah."

"I'd miss you. Who else is acting like a freaky little renegade monkey in this place? That's a compliment, by the way. And you're very… abstract. That's kind of cool."

"… ah."

"I'd travel. You can come, if you like, with me and Ulquiorra and Jaques. I haven't asked them yet, but… there's still time. I bet that it would be really fun." Messing up his hair once more as the Arrancar wrapped his arms around her waist, she smiled softly. "… ah, right?"

"… _ah._"

She snorted, giggling at his antics and his strange predictability before closing her eyes; and Karin fell into a blissful state of unconsciousness. Sleep was such a fickle thing for her – avoiding her when she was alone, and seeking for her when she was in comfortable company. Grimmjow chased her sleepiness away, but Ulquiorra? Well, Ulquiorra didn't mind… _much…_ she thought, her mind fading into the dark abyss of solitude.

—

It's a crime.

No… that wasn't true.

Falling in _love_ was not a crime.

But it should be.

Right?

Especially with a human.

Yet the feeling was unrequited. One sided. That kind of love was never to be reciprocated. She, who was _different_ and _odd_ and _human,_ would never consider him _that_ way, correct? After all, why would _she_, a mere human, a fifteen-year-old girl, ever develop feelings for _him_, a mere Arrancar?

No, that wasn't true either. He's not a _mere_ Arrancar. He was an Espada. He was _her_ bodyguard, her protector, her confidante – someone who she trusted with all her heart and soul. With all her heart and soul… it sounded so innocent, so childlike, so naïve; and yet she worked so hard not to let those emotions show, trying to dissuade herself that it wasn't true. Something so pure, or at least, purest of them all – be it Arrancar or _shinigami_ – but since she behaved the exact opposite, it became hard to tell that she contained that fleeting purity still.

He did not want to betray her trust that he had found hard to gain. And yet, he knew that it was so _easy _to break that trust, so easy to step between the fine line of law and order… yet he stood motionless, caught in a trap. Things like consistency, acceptance, loyalty and companionship conflicted in his decision that would eventually happen. He closed his jaded eyes, so bright a green and his facial expression transitioned akin to a sigh. How he adored turning a few simple words into a myriad of eloquent pose. His articulate style of making an innocent and harmless gesture could easily transform into something beautiful or distasteful, suspicious or confusing.

And yet, no matter how he attempted to deal with this _one_ personal matter, he could not hide from the plain and simple truth. Though it was a bad idea from the start, he had reassured himself that he would remain guarded and never let his walls fall; he would not allow a mere girl, relative of the one and only _orange-berry_ – the human _shinigami_, to become his object of affection; considered somebody special, made just for him. But he hadn't realized the repercussions of having Inoue Orihime around, who had sown the seeds, to make it set into motion. She had… changed him, however slightly, to make it possible.

The memory of Karin's first innocent smile still marred him, continuing to pierce his non-existent heart, which he knew he didn't have. He believed he that he was a murderer and a fallen soul; there was no feasibility for him to have a _heart_ that contained emotion, let alone Grimmjow – and she was not like Belle in the fairytale that he had heard her tell to Wonderwice. She would not love, let alone_ fall_ for a beast as dirty and tainted as him. He, who carried the burden alone of being the disposal Arrancar of the useless, dirt-ridden trash of Aizen-sama's army, and had become isolated and disliked by the rest of the Espada…

Why would she ever fall for such a loathsome and tragic Arrancar?

She, who had repressed her inner feelings, saw him only as a close friend. She, who was in love with someone else, believed that he would look after her, no matter what happened. She, who was with someone else, was unattainable to someone like him. Yet here she was, in Las Noches, in love with someone else, and dating someone who was like him. An Espada, no less.

As much as he wanted to hate her, this… this _girl_ who danced with insanity and death had… a quality. A stillness that glowed inside her, and perhaps unconsciously, she extended the branch of friendship and peace to him; to anyone she met, glowing luminously, with an indecipherable emotion written in her eyes. He had recognised that, as much as her temper kindled and combusted, she understood – _too_ well, _too_ much, and the intensity of her understanding burnt him. Like a moth to a bright light, she attracted him, and already the vibrant light that she radiated had blinded him with accidental touches and insignificant looks.

"Oi."

Jade eyes opened once more, a cool detachment settling on his skin; the unflinching gaze directed to the Arrancar that was two ranks beneath him. But he could feel the anger fizzling under his impenetrable façade, his _reiatsu_ rising slowly.

"_What, _Grimmjow?" Odd, how emotionless his voice could become, neutral and bored, which seemed like an open invitation for a fight that people would straightforwardly accept and comply with the unintentional offer, and then later becoming trash, therefore becoming exterminated. They were fools.

"Tch. You're such a fucking idiot. Such a fucking _piece of shit._" His tone was sneering, laced with contempt and bitterness. Still, Ulquiorra sensed a hint of thinly veiled condescension.

The melancholic Arrancar blinked, barely feeling the Arrancar's hand grab his shirt and shove him against the wall. If he wanted, he could have stopped Grimmjow in his tracks but…

"It's an _act. _I'm not you, bastard."

"How astute." Calm, Ulquiorra Schiffer asked unflinchingly. "Why are you telling me this?"

"I _don't_ fucking _love_ her. She knows this."

"…" Jade eyes narrowed imperceptibly. _You mean the exact opposite._

"We're using each other, Rin and me. It's only for fucking revenge against Kurosaki. After that, the bitch is of no concern to me. Do whatever the hell you want."

"… what are you talking about now?" Ignorance was the key, as well as a flawless demeanour and a lack of care. With his eyes carved out of stone, he stared at Grimmjow, green piercing blue, both glowing eerily.

"You know exactly what the fuck I mean." Grimmjow growled, his eyes narrowing. It wasn't his fault if Ulquiorra acted like a dumb ass; the Pantera Espada would not fucking spell it out for him.

Silence.

It was test, and yet both knew exactly what was happening, neither one attempting to break the tension, waiting for the other one to break the _serene_ silence.

"Don't fucking blame me when it all comes down on your shitty head. You've had your chance, fair and square, and I'm not going to wait any longer. Hell, even _she_ may not wait much longer. Because…" Grimmjow snarled. "How long can you wait before people fucking give up?" Pulling the Arrancar closer, before slamming to the wall once more, Grimmjow let go of Ulquiorra. "Fucking bastard."

Perhaps it was the lack of reaction that caused it, but regardless, Grimmjow Jeagerjaques' other fist punched the wall, numb to the pain, numb to wall itself crumbling due to the impact. Spitting and muttering obscenities that Ulquiorra Schiffer was quite certain that he did not want to hear, Grimmjow stepped back. "Fuck. Fuck! _Fuck!_" His voice roared. "Damn you and that bitch! You should both go to hell!" He snarled, shaking his head and storming off.

_Aren't you tired yet?_ That's what she said, emotionlessly and listlessly, at his complete mercy. Nobody knew why it struck such a chord with Grimmjow, except Grimmjow himself.

"Would you ever tell her?" Ulquiorra Schiffer enquired, aware of the fact that the Sexta Espada had frozen in his tracks.

"I don't know what the fuck you're talking about." The blue-haired Arrancar muttered, not about to admit that his cheeks coloured; his unruly head downcast.

"Then you are a hypocrite." He wanted to say – to _ask_ – the lower Espada so many things; wanted to _beat_ some sense into him, for tasting – touching – _kissing_ – a human. Ulquiorra wanted to do so many things, yet was unable to because the sole reasons were selfish; because they were selfish, they held no purpose for Aizen-sama, and therefore rendered useless. What point was there acting on useless whims, however pleasurable the result may be?

But… the temptation… was endless. It lingered, haunting his every thought, camouflaged in the darkness.

"Just leave me fucking alone! I'm going to look for Rin." The electric blue eyed Espada declared, stomping away from his hated comrade, breaking him from his track of thought. "_Bastard."_

Eyes half-closed, a ghost of a smile crept onto his small mouth. Despite the two Arrancars having conflicting and contrasting personalities; it did not hinder the detail that they understood each other very well to the extent that they did not know each other. Hands slid into his pockets, his face once more became made of marble, and Ulquiorra too, walked away, mouth pursed, his thoughts returning to the girl he could not – _should not_ – love.

—

"Ah-hah! I found you, _tai-_chou!" Matsumoto smiled, sauntering towards the tenth captain, and as usual, was in her happy-go-lucky and laid-back mood.

How she managed to do all the paperwork in Soul Society was still a mystery to Hitsugaya Toushirou.

"Matsumoto." Hitsugaya Toushirou acknowledged, nodding his head slightly. "What is it?"

"Nothing!" She grinned; making herself comfortable next to him, and in doing so, made him uncomfortable. "I wanted to see what you were doing."

Resisting the urge to roll his eyes, Hitsugaya expressed his weariness through an audible sigh. Knowing that his fukitaichou was going to be at his side, watching him like a tiger that sought for prey, the icy _shinigami_ continued to scrutinize his mobile, waiting for Hollows that lingered in the vicinity to appear.

"Ne, ne, taichou—" Matsumoto asked, prodding him in a less than gentle manner, "why do you like to be here?"

"What?" He blinked, confusion filling his mind, like déjà vu. Hadn't he heard a question like that before? He turned to face the auburn haired woman, not quite believing his ears. "Say that again, Matsumoto."

"What are you, deaf?" Head tilting as her grey-blue eyes turned to face him; Matsumoto Rangiku lay on her back, arms folded behind her head. Nonetheless, she complied with his request. "Why do you like to be here, at this particular place, to be more precise?" There, she gave a mental nod – she had repeated it _and_ elaborated. Two things that she didn't often do, which annoyed him greatly.

He snapped his cell phone shut, and leaned back on the hill, idly interested in the sunset. "Doesn't it remind you of Soul Society?"

Matsumoto considered this. In truth, while she acted immature and lazy – because _dammit_, someone has to do it! – she paid attention to her taichou's words. Not to the extent that she worshiped the ground that he stepped on, that feat was too over the top for her, but she took the words to heart, embracing them for the future, as 'guide lines', if she wanted to label her mental tasks. Of course, said guide lines were often _conveniently_ forgotten, but that was another topic that Matsumoto waved away, thinking nothing of it. It was often best to stay out of her head, complexities of a different kind.

"I…" Watching the blue sky slowly suffuse into similar hues; yellow, orange, pink, purple, violet, grey and plenty more, the shades mingled, interchanging within each other, the streaks of sky and wisps of white clouds shadowed by the disarray of colour. It was a beautiful picture, so wide and vast, unlimited and eternal, and always there if one chose to notice it. Ichimaru Gin on said that he could see the sky in her eyes, and wherever they were, so long as they were together, he'd be reminded of freedom. She frowned as her heart ached. _Gin…_ "Yes. It does." Matsumoto slowly admitted. "It makes me remember things from Soul Society."

"Yeah." Hitsugaya murmured, fragments of a broken conversation whispering in his ear. "It might not be close to home, but it's the best place that I could find to look at the sky." And something was breaking inside him, one tiny shard dissolving into bleak nothingness. It was a pity that he didn't know what it was.

"Taichou…"

"What?" He turned to look at his fukitaichou, aquamarine eyes coolly flicking to see his subordinate. He froze, breath hitched.

Because… he didn't see Matsumoto Rangiku.

He saw a girl.

Instead of long auburn tresses, instead of a buxom _shinigami_, there was a human girl. Short raven black hair reached her shoulders, dark black eyes that half-smiled at him, and an irrevocable smirk slid onto her face. She was saying, but the tenth taichou couldn't hear her, as if his ears had been covered by cotton. She was translucent, but not a ghost; he realized, bewildered by the phenomenon. And yet, for some reason unbeknownst to him, although he could see her hair, her eyes, and her mouth clearly, the rest of her features, her nose, or her cheekbones, for example, were blurred, caught in a shimmering light.

"… _shi… rou…?_"

_That was odd, _he thought, eyes half-lidded, dazed. He didn't believe that was her voice, whoever the girl was; quite certain that it couldn't be as loud and obnoxious as—

"—tusgaya-taichou? Are you alright?"

Matsumoto Rangiku's voice brought him out of his stupor, and Hitsugaya breathed out, somewhat relieved and puzzled. "Matsumoto." Piercing aquamarine eyes closed, filing away what happened to a corner of his mind. When that was done, he opened his eyes, blinking and focusing on the fukitaichou in front of him. "I'm fine. Don't worry about it."

"_Hai._" Matsumoto nodded, though she didn't look convinced. Slightly annoyed, Toushirou sighed, knowing that she would internalize her worry; true, sometimes she would let things slide, but numerous times did she let her 'mother complex' take over. He didn't mind it particularly, but he would prefer it if she kept silent for now."

"You're right, you know."

"About what?" He asked absent-mindedly.

"It's one of the best places to look at the sky." Standing up, she offered a hand to Hitsugaya Toushirou. "Let's go."

He took her hand, and the fukitaichou pulled her taichou off the ground.

"Alright."

—

They were playing _shogi_ again.

It was only to pass the time and to amuse their selves while not ordering the Arrancars to do their bidding. It was a small game, but with infinite possibilities and it fascinated Aizen almost as much as the fact that a good cup of tea was a remedy for everything. The two of them sat still and conversed about meaningless things, indolently trying to distract each other while finding the best strategic move and to conquer the game that they played. But it was dealt in an odd style, like an orchestrated play with the conductor giving meaningful glance, lingering touches to reinforce the point; widened smiles to unsettle the crowd; echoing strumming in a rhythmic pattern and careful sips of intricately made tea.

One slip and the game could be over.

One blink and the match could be lost.

One spill and the cup of tea could be ruined.

One movement and discussion was all but forgotten.

"She knows, ne, Aizen?" Ichimaru Gin's smirk never wavered, despite how serious the issue was. "What she is to do?"

His slender fingers barely touched the piece, yet with flawless grace, he slid it forward, the brown curl in front of his face remaining poised and still. Thick lashes lowered before the corners of his mouth curled, somewhat amused about the subject in question. "Of course she knows; there is no other possible explanation why she acts towards me in that manner."

"Yeah, so different to Hime-chan." The silver haired _shinigami_ ex-taichou noted. "She sure is strange."

"_Hai._" Brown eyes darkened, lost in thought as fragments of future idea and plots swirled in his mind, thousands of countless possibilities of a more exciting performance. His fingers interlocked as he drew his hands close to his face, millimetres away from contact. "Which do you prefer?"

"Eh?" Nonchalantly, Ichimaru Gin scratched the back of his head. "Let's see… both of them are so different… it's kinda hard to choose, if ya ask me, which ya are."

Another piece was moved, another breath was taken and the conversation had already taken a different turn. Fingers hovered over the pieces yet to be played, itching to move it, yet unable to do so because the next strategic move had not been factored in, which may be essential for a future turn. Laying out the possibilities in mind, he asked, his snake-like smile widening.

"I have a feeling that things are about to become very interesting fo' us. Don't ya agree?"

A knowing smirk crossed Aizen's lips. "Of course. When were going to tell me about—more tea?" The subject was deliberately changed, but as brown eyes gazed distastefully into the metal cup, his shoulders heaved and the small comfort of tea beside him soothed him. There was something so wonderfully domestic and simple about tea, that Aizen would have laughed, had he not been about to delve into a serious issue, the ambiguity intentional. "I trust you won't cheat?"

"Of course." His voice was pleasantly light-hearted, but both knew very well that cheating was what he did best at, aside from making people uncomfortable. He drove a cruel bargain, but that was how he liked it.

"Will you tell me about it some time?" The metal container filled up with tea, the only sound being the liquid escape from the kettle.

"Only when it's necessary. I think ya might like it better if you don't have full control over the board." Ichimaru said cheerfully, finally making his move.

"Perhaps. Perhaps not," Aizen inclined his head, the benevolent smile never leaving his face.

"Ne, don't you think that you're being a little too harsh on the midget taichou?" Half-closed eyes cracked open an inch, the change barely noticeable, but essential in observation the reaction and body reflexes. "Some would call it a sport, because you're tearing his life apart. One by one."

"No." The gentle demeanour never fell, but the crack that appeared repaired itself instantly. "You are mistaken. It is merely a matter of coincidence."

"Ah, in that case. I think you'd better take care. Something might happen… if you push too far."

Brown eyes flitted to observe the pointy face, before taking keen interest on the cup of tea, yet again. "Need I remind you that you also may be treading on cracked ground? Or should I tell you that everyone made their own choices, and it is because of that, that everything is like it is now?" He slid his next piece soundlessly, like always, darkened eyes never leaving the silver haired _shinigami._

"Feh. It doesn't really matter." Ichimaru shrugged, carelessly dangling his hand above various pieces, much like a fly and a spider, the random movements outlining his possibilities. "I'd still stay that our current princess is more interesting. It's such a shame she has so many nightmares, though she denies it so many times."

"The first was rejected by God. The second was cursed. No, rather, she was _born_ cursed… and her entire family is doomed to a tragic fate." Aizen mused, pondering over the probability that no matter which direction they decided to go, at some point, it would coincide with someone part of that family, or someone close to that family. "As are the people who associate with them?"

"Does that include us, then?" Ichimaru innocently inquired. "Jaw-kun? Or Ulqui-chan?"

"Well observed." A slight smile. "No, I do not believe so. We have been blessed by God himself."

"Oh? That so? Because she bonded with us?" A feigned look of surprise spread across the silver-haired man's face.

"No." Aizen allowed himself a small smirk. "It is due to that she, as I have foreseen, will bring our enemies their downfall."

His head turned, obscuring the reaction that the person opposite had wanted to observe. "They both had different purposes, yet they have the same result." He mulled over this, his expression never changing. "Are you sure that this is what you want?" Thin slits widened, if only for a mere second, both knowing that the subject had been changed.

"It is your 'game', your 'idea', and it's up to you how this turns out to be. I trust you." The corners of Aizen Sousuke's mouth curved, as his gentle hand slid another piece in place, "and I trust that you will make the correct choice when the time comes. But I am curious," his other hand lifting his chin, intrigued. "When does it begin?"

A snakelike grin crept up the corners of Ichimaru Gin's face, almost sadistically entertained. Pearly white teeth flashed; scintillation like starlight. "Wouldn't ya like to know?"

The brunet man let out a throaty laugh as Ichimaru, once long ago, his fukitaichou, now ex-taichou of the third division won the game, sneaky and stealthy as his personality implied.

"One minor detail. That's all I ask. I would… _prefer_ to prepare for the momentous occasion, the beginning of your epic game. After all, with you in charge of your…" He mulled over what word was best to describe Kurosaki Karin. "… let us say, 'project', it will surely be an intriguing, psychologically challenging and perhaps, traumatizing event. And that, I believe, will keep me amused."

"If ya insist, _taichou._" The mocking voice of the former taichou and fukitaichou replied, complying with the meagre request, crossing into a threshold of the dangerous risk. Then again, he had always enjoyed playing games of fire, of outcome that were not certain, and were constantly unpredictable. "I'll give ya that date if the beginning of mayhem and chaos that yo' so desperately want."

Aizen refrained from rolling his eyes, for both of the ex-taichous had flares of drama, although the field in which they were played in varied and contrasted greatly.

"Then I'll thank you for your generosity."

Leaning forward, with a grin that uncannily resembled a slippery serpent, his eyes glinted, oddly excited, Gin whispered:

"The orchestrated performance begins on…"

He gave a sideways look, mocking the invisible watchers, although they both knew that they were alone. Still, they enjoyed conspiracies and the silver haired _shinigami_ did not waste his time, although he sadistically took pleasure in drawing out the suspense, although it could be interpreted as pain; depending on which view was taken.

The stage was set; all it needed was a catalyst to begin.

And then everything would come crashing down.

"… May 6th."


	9. life, lucidity

**b u t t e r f l i i e . d r a g o n**

life, lucidity

"_I don't blame you. If it was my decision, I'd have done the same."_

* * *

_White._

_Everything… everything she sees is… white._

_Karin doesn't understand. One minute… one minute she's talking to Hitsugaya; the next… everything spliced away, melting into a blank canvas, ready for colour to be messily splashed on._

_Maybe it's something she ate. Maybe not._

_Huh. Her headache is gone. Seconds ago, it was increasing in pain, making it hard to think incoherent thoughts, to see clearly; now, it's as if the headache never existed in the first place. There's no dizziness, only a sense of emptiness._

_But—_

… _he's gone. Disappeared before her very eyes; fading from view as he melded into the white abyss. _

_He isn't here. That much is certain._

_Is this a dream? Had she fallen unconscious? _

_Every way she looks, each time she turns – there's nothing here but __**white**__._

_White walls, white floors, white chairs, white tables – if any, they've become part of the blank scenery; camouflaged in the landscape of white. Is it snowing? If it is, then Karin can't feel the cold snowflakes melt on her face, can't see her breath condense and die away, can't sense the her skin prickle at the temperature._

_Here… she is devoid of anything. Externally, that is. Internally, everything feels more… intense. Magnified. Amplified than what she usually feels, hidden away behind her icy front, trying to dissuade herself that the emotions that she exerts should be nothing more than pale imitations of the real thing._

_But here, in this strange place, she cannot hide. Her mask, hardened and carefully constructed, has been stripped away._

_Something is breaking, screaming in agony, but in low whispers, like that of listening to the song of the sea through a conch. Yet, something is mending, so slowly, so delicately, that Karin barely registers it; like that of a hand of a ghost, resting on flesh that cannot be touched._

_This isn't—_

_This isn't where she usually…_

_So, if it isn't __**there**__, then, where is she?_

_Karin holds her breath, counting to ten to let the emotions flood her, before she takes control once more, getting a firmer grip on her situation and how she is going to deal with it. Exhaling, her shoulders rise and fall, before her eyes flicker open once more; and Karin carefully rotates a circle, trying to see if she can discern anything from this bare land of silence._

_She's unarmed. That's alright – she can fight with her fists, and she's got speed; that's worth something. As long as she keeps a cool head, she'll make the best of it._

"_Karin-chan!"_

_A voice. Soft. Gentle. Familiar._

_A voice that she hasn't heard for so long._

_It's louder than the hammering heart that drums in her head._

"_Karin-chan!"_

_Karin turns to the direction of the voice; her hair flying in disarray, before tumbling down her back and bouncing off her shoulders, parting; blue eyes widen, uncertain if this is a hallucination, unsure if what she sees is actually there. Her fighting stance is gone, her guard wavering._

_She is Kurosaki Karin, and she feels ten again, thrown by this turn of event._

_Because there's—_

"_You see?" Yuzu's face breaks out into a wide smile. "I knew I'd find you again!"_

—

Karakura Town hasn't changed. And still it remains blissfully unaware of the danger that it has been in. Residents are still ignorant of ghosts, _shinigami_, Hollows and Arrancars, and it amazes Ishida Orihime every time she visits.

It's for the best, but still…

Sighing, she brushes off those thoughts; after all, if people did know, then… perhaps it more important to think of the reason she came her: to see if Kurosaki Karin-chan's supernatural powers of twin reception actually was real! Maybe she could mind-read? Maybe she could feel the other's pain?

Maybe not.

All that Orihime knows is that sometimes Karin dreams about her younger sister; but whether that amounts to something, that's a different story. The middle child of the Kurosakis hasn't been very forthcoming about it; and it's up to her, detective Ishida Orihime, to discover the trail, find the red herrings and the crux of truth from these faint clues.

Perhaps the dreams of her younger sister are simply manifestations for Karin to accept what she's done; and in confiding in her, is like the confession that is asking for forgiveness; oblivious to the fact that Ishida Orihime has already forgiven her.

But that's why she's here.

To discover if Karin has been saying things that actually affect reality, concerning Yuzu; if it is merely comfort for herself, or dealing with the guilt.

Kurosaki Isshin looks old. Not physically, outwardly, he looks fine, healthy, a little tired, but well preserved. It's in his eyes; the sign of a weary traveller, someone who has seen too much, has lost too much.

And he has lost everything.

His son doesn't return home; his daughter is comatose; and his other daughter is declared a criminal, to Karakura Town, remains missing.

It's so damn fucked up.

Is this karma? Are his family paying for his sins?

Has his family been cursed?

If it has, then, at least he has the corporeal bodies of two of his kids; he can still look after them.

He visits Yuzu every day, praying that one day that she will wake up. Sometimes, Kon joins him, always with a handful of flowers, differing every time: daffodils, buttercups, azaleas, fuchsias, the meanings lost on him. Occasionally, they reminisce; chuckling quietly or raucously; the terrors and security; the happiness and the sadness; and the quirky habits that each of them had, trying to fill in the gaps of what a family means. At times, they read stories, about princesses and their princes; stolen away by ragamuffins, a boy of a different calibre, unlocking true love that both hearts denied, changing the voices when they felt like it, and frequently adding to the plot, diverting twists and expanding the pretty lies that children love to hear, always ending the story happily.

But most of the time, they sit in silence, watching the youngest Kurosaki in mutual sobriety.

Praying for the day that all of them will be reunited one day.

—

_Her tongue is numb. Her world is frozen._

_Kurosaki Karin doesn't know what to do; doesn't know what to say._

_She steps back, retracing her footsteps that should hopefully erase the ghost._

_This is a dream._

"_No." She denies the sight before her to be truth. "No, this isn't – this isn't right."_

_Kurosaki Yuzu is not standing in front of her. Kurosaki Yuzu is not here. This is a figment of her imagination, and any second now, she is going to disappear, and she is going to wake up._

"_Ka-Karin-chan?" The spirit – phantom – dream – fake – delusion says, concern written over her face, easily readable. Her hair is longer, not as long as Karin's, still auburn-brown, just like the older sibling remembers. _

_Yuzu steps forward, Karin steps back, shaking her head, determined that the whole thing's a lie._

"_This isn't real. You – __**you're**__ not real!" She shouts, unnerved, wishing that she'd just blink and open her eyes and see—_

_And see…_

"_Get away from me!"_

"_Karin…"_

"_No!" She won't listen; she won't hear a single word that is said by this form of consciousness. She is __**not**__ sorry for what she's done. She is __**not**__ ashamed of it. She is __**not**__ regretting it. Raising her voice, she hollers. "Go away! Get the fuck away from me!"_

_She just… didn't want Yuzu to see her… like this._

_Yuzu isn't Ichi-nii. With Ichi-nii, the orange-berry, she wanted to flaunt her darkness, wanted to spite him for not saving her when she succumbed to her despair after waiting so long, and decided to join them. With Yuzu… she will taint her, subverting that innocence that she herself does not contain any more. _

_If she sees Yuzu again, she will ruin her._

_And then her efforts would be in vain; because she joined the Arrancars to __**protect**__ her; confident of the fact that Ichi-nii would rescue her._

_Karin had been so sure that if she had gotten out alive, of the whole mess, she would probably never meet her younger sister again. Too much had happened, and Yuzu would not like what she had become._

_Better to be a memory of something cherished than something hated._

_Chanting like a mantra, she covers her ears, firmly closing her eyes. "Not real – not real – not real – not – real—"_

_And perhaps it is impulsive, a shock at Karin's reaction and anger at the denial; Yuzu slaps her, resounding in the waking silence._

_It happens too fast, it happens too quickly, but the pain is proof that Yuzu is real._

"_I __**am**__ real, I __**am **__here." Yuzu whispers, brown doe eyes soft as ever; her moment of violence transient, forgotten as if it never happened._

_As if the past six years had never occurred and both of them were ten again, nearly eleven, waiting for their dreams to come true and to conquer the world with culinary skills and soccer goals; except they are sixteen and not as naïve as before; broken dreamers._

… _it's too much for Karin._

_She's been holding on for too long, chasing things that will never be; trying to deny things that are; attempting to maintain who she is—and her whole world is falling apart, breaking into shattered fragments of the fragile heart._

_The tears fall, and she just can't make them stop; her emotions overflowing as her legs buckle and—_

"_It's alright. I'm here." Yuzu soothes Karin, holding her, being the pillar of strength when her sister cannot. "You've been so strong. So strong…"_

_Karin sobs and clings to her younger sister, because she's missed her so much and oh, she wants to see Toushirou's face once more time—_

_And she's never held on tighter to dreams that could crumble away at any second._

—

Truthfully, Orihime doesn't know how long she's going to stay in the mortal world before her curiosity is satisfied. Uryuu-kun knows this, and waits patiently. So long as she doesn't endanger their child, it's fine.

Kurosaki Isshin is glad of the company; and so is Kon, though he shows it in a more… _physical _manner. And it's in that moment that the similarity between Kurosaki-kun and the man that was recognized as the energetic father strikes Orihime the most. And she can't help it; her giggles spill like a fountain to parched ground.

And when she meets their eyes, she finds traced memories of a smile on their faces.

She wouldn't be surprised if they haven't heard laughter in a long time; they certainly deserve to hear more.

So she waits with them, trying to bring the happiness that she's known, the resilience that contains her, despite the hardships they've all suffered.

All for the sake of a smile.

Then, one day, Yuzu wakes up.

—

"_I don't blame you. If it was my decision, I'd have done the same." Quietly, as if the subject is as simple as discussing the weather, Yuzu confides in Karin, absentmindedly stroking her locks of black hair. _

_She is calm now, more docile than she has ever been in Yuzu's company._

_There are no more secrets; Karin has told what has happened to her, Yuzu likewise. But Karin does not voice her thoughts of the future, not wanting to destroy the tranquillity that she has found. And Yuzu does not share her doubts; careful to tread on tenuous ground._

"_Would you?" Her voice is weak, childish, and desperate for reassurance. _

"_Yes. For the sake of protecting you, my family, I would have made the same choice."_

_Initially, they would have made the same choice; but what about later on? What about during the five years, where she had to endure the torments and isolation from the others? Would Yuzu still have her faith, would she still believe in family? Or would she cast them away, grudgingly accepting that the only way to survive was to leave the past completely behind her until every direction she ran lead her back?_

_Would she have done the same in the end?_

_There are many paths they might have taken, but only one is chosen._

_And Karin's thoughts remain unsaid._

"_Karin-chan." _

"_Mm?" She looks up, feeling vulnerable and exposed, but it's just the two of them, and her apathetic pretence has long since disappeared in Yuzu's presence. There's something about the younger sibling that is able to make anyone feel at ease, at least, more so than before._

"_Do you hate Ichi-nii?" It's something that Yuzu has to know. She doesn't want a family that has been torn apart and has no power to be mended and whole._

_The older sibling is silent for a while; collecting her thoughts and mulling over the answer. She will tell the truth; and she will attempt to not hurt her younger sister's feelings, without the sugar-coated lies._

_Yuzu is patient, Yuzu is kind; and she will always understand Karin on a level much deeper than the others perceive._

"… _no." Karin finally says, turning away, as if the truth inflicts damage inside her. "I don't hate him. But… I can't forgive him, either."_

_Maybe, given time, but… her hopes aren't high. Something can be fixed; other things are irrevocably damaged. And blood being thicker than water doesn't mean a damn thing if it can't save the one they love, stuck in ignorance for far too long._

_So, she'll continue to push him; partly because she believes that he wants to be punished; partly for him to realize her true sentiments._

_Her eyes are dry; and she will not cry for lost causes any longer._

—

Hazelnut eyes flicker open, slowly at first, like a butterfly breaking from its cocoon, before the strength grows, and the light pierces her eyes – having been shut for so long – and the faces above her stop being a grey blur, eventually focusing into two people that Kurosaki Yuzu knows: Otou-san and Orihime-san.

But Karin-chan and Ichi-nii aren't there.

Nonetheless, she smiles, because she's finally awake. Weakly, she squeezes that hands that are interlocked with her own.

Her soul is mending; reconciling with Karin's.

Slowly, but surely, it's on the path to recovery.

"_Tadaima."_ She whispers, her voice sore and raspy, unused for so long.

And their broken smiles are the most beautiful things that she's seen since forever. She laughs at their hugs, and their curious antics; silently wondering why she can sense another, out of sight, but just as happy as the two that are in her room.

… she misses Bostov.

"Hey," she murmurs tiredly, "I'm sleepy."

_How odd…_

"That's okay; I'm not going anywhere." Isshin says, regaining his vigour that Yuzu has missed. "Daddy's not going to leave his child behind!"

Yuzu wants to ask, who's been looking after him, has Ichigo been good, but her mouth won't work and as the seconds slowly pass, her eyelids are getting heavier and drooping back into the calm melody of sleep.

Her memory is trying to recall something, but surely, she'll remember when she wakes up…

—

"_Do you love him?" _

"_Who?" Karin is tracing circles in the ground, eyes averting her younger sister's._

"_That boy. Before…" Before all this had happened. The one who had made Karin so happy, wearing a smile that was adorned radiantly; the one who brought a terrible temper in his absence; the boy that had changed everything and nothing._

"_I…" Karin's cheeks flush, red like roses and scarlet tomatoes. "Well, I… don't really…"_

_Yuzu's smile widens. Karin has __**never**__ stuttered or stumbled or flustered that easily when talking about another boy._

"_Hey! Shut up!" If anything, Karin's cheeks brighten, mortified by the revelation._

"_I didn't say anything." Yuzu giggles, enjoying the reaction of her older sister._

_It's nice._

_How easily things have slipped into the old life; without the tempers; with telltale signs._

_And yet, some things cannot be recovered, forever altered. _

—

When Yuzu wakes, Bostov is in her arms.

And Ichi-nii… Ichi-nii is here!

"Onii-chan!" Yuzu smiles brilliantly, still within the mind frame of a ten-year-old.

"Hey, Yuzu. Are you okay?" His smile is easy-going, and it's almost like nothing is different. He's here, he cares, and… he's different. Older, mature, but wearing that comfortable frown with the hint of worry behind it. Yet he's smiling, and Yuzu can see the happiness in his eyes. But there's sadness too, and she can't remember if she's ever seen so much to that degree. She's never seen so much written in his eyes.

"Yeah." She nods, enthusiastic. "I'm… good. Better. I've had such a strange dream…"

"Oh yeah?" Curious, Ichi-nii slips into the role of the elder brother, there to take care of her. "Want to tell me about it?"

"It was… well, a bit of a nightmare." Yuzu shyly admits, looking down before meeting her big brother's eyes, and lowering her voice. "It was you and Otou-san trying to _cook_."

Ichigo scowls, eyebrows furrowed. "That must have been some nightmare."

Yuzu can't resist the mirth that bubbles up inside her. "It was."

They share a smile; and slip into a comfortable silence.

But it doesn't last for long.

"Ichi-nii, actually, to tell the truth, I had a dream about Karin." The youngest of the Kurosakis hesitates, tucking back a lock of hair behind her ear. For a brief second, she falters, torn between making amends and keeping secrecy. Though it had been unspoken, Yuzu couldn't help but feel that what had happened during part of her dream should remain between them. "And… I want you to stop feeling guilty."

She leans forward slightly, using her adorable lion-plushy as support.

Yuzu doesn't want to have a broken family. She wants—

She wants her family to be on good terms.

"I want you to start being her big brother again, and to look out for her."

—

"_So, what now?"_

"_Well," Yuzu says calmly, a sad smile spreading, "I guess it's time for you to wake up."_

"_But what about—"_

"_Karin. Stop worrying about me. I… I want to you to take care of yourself, instead of digging holes. Okay?"_

_A sigh, a reluctant nod._

"_Yeah." Karin agrees. "I guess it's time for me to face reality."_


	10. the pretence

**b u t t e r f l i i e . d r a g o n**

the pretence

"_And as long as you need me… I'm here."_

* * *

**One year ago.**

Ulquiorra Schiffer liked control, liked order. He liked a few things, contrary to most Arrancar's beliefs.

Although, it was true, that in the long run, he was indifferent to most objects, desires and whims that normal mortals had, he still contained emotions. Externally, he disproved of the thought; internally, a seed of doubt began to grow. Did Arrancars contain emotion, or did the mind play tricks? Fractured and broken, remnants or memories, the Cuarta Espada kept a hidden suspicion that Arrancars still contained emotions, though he questioned this every single day, confiding it to no one.

What else could set Grimmjow's dynamic temper, Wonderwice's ditzy happiness, and other Arrancars' off like a bat out of hell?

As for Ulquiorra, he felt _guilt._

In the brief moments where dreaming and waking became interlocked like dusk transcending into night; where he was by _her_ side, watching her sleep beside him, arms around him, it occurred, softly like an ocean breeze. Remorse. Guilt. Fear.

And, creeping and crawling, like a beast wandering through the darkness and wanting light, _love_ seeped through him, apropos dawn breaking.

It's his secret, the only that he'd conceal from her, the only one that she'd never know.

She'd dance and weave, or smirk and snarl, but she'd still be playing the game; one which only she knew the rules; yet she'd still be partaking in the game that only Aizen-sama knew the rules to, the rest guessing the steps along the way. She'd give her smiles away like tears that fell on rainy days, but the reality was that she was trying to complete something that would never make sense.

When the time came, when the rift that spread inside him became irrevocable, whose side would he choose? His loyalty? Or his… love? His dilemma remained unsolved, constantly breaking and mending, twisting and turning, and still he could not decide. Time passed, and his protégé moved with grace, leading him onto a dance, a battle, and a beautiful one at that.

She danced and she twirled, she smirked and she snarled, but Ulquiorra was there, watching her. He was always watching, ready to pull her out from the dance floor of danger and chaos, ready to wake her when her dream turned into a nightmare.

She'd never know, and he'd never say, but it's _their _dance, where anything was plausible.

He's the one there for her.

Unlike the _other_ person who haunted her mind.

—

She awoke with Wonderwice's arms entwined around her waist, and Ulquiorra looking down at her, merely waiting, his facial expressions impassive.

"Trust you to be the one to ruin my _beauty sleep_." Karin mumbled, gently prying the pale childlike Arrancar off her. She wasn't mad – that much was obvious in her composure, lazily graceful and relaxed, but a spark of curiosity could be seen within the glint of her eyes. Usually she awoke; unaware that he had been observing her under his indifferent façade, blissfully within the cusp of disorientation and cuddliness, tightening her grasp on him for a minute or so, before relenting and tumbling off the bed, muttering a curse as she hit the floor, entangled with the duvet. This time, and a few other times, Ulquiorra had woken her through a surge of his _reiatsu_, often resulting with a grouchy Karin, but this time was different: he had never done it with Wonderwice before. And so, she set aside her anger, waiting for him to speak, dark eyes glancing at Ulquiorra through slanted locks of hair. "What do you want?"

"Grimmjow is looking for you." The melancholic Arrancar folded his arms, tone disproving. "I thought it might be in your best interests if you knew now."

"He missed me, then?" She grinned, memories of their physical relationship flashing in her mind's eye; sitting up like an excited puppy. It was no secret between the two of them, and Karin certainly _implied_ it whenever she could; but whether her intent was to amuse or disappoint Aizen, Ulquiorra would never know. "Well… I miss him, too." Stretching, Karin stood up and measured herself against her primary 'bodyguard'. St Ulquiorra's silence, she gave a mischievous smile, flirtatiously adding: "I missed you more, you know."

Ulquiorra merely rolled his eyes in response. As usual, he was not entertained by her playful antics.

"However," Karin continued breezily, as if she hadn't seen anything. "Since I have a boyfriend and all… I'm sorry to say that I can't show you how much." She was teasing him now, and even if nothing changed, Karin knew that Ulquiorra was, if only slightly, amused.

"I'm not interested." He looked away, before coolly flicking his eyes back to her… _colourful_ hair, painted in many different shades. "Are you certain that it is not Wonderwice that is your 'boyfriend'?" Using the word scornfully, his disdain increased as Karin giggled, much to his chagrin. He did not care about either Arrancar, but, resentfully, he couldn't help but feel inferior whenever she mentioned those two comrades because she was more intimate with them. Physically, that much was undeniable, but Ulquiorra retained a hidden pride that he was more intimate with her mentally, emotionally.

"You should know," she whispered in a sly voice, "that I only go for older guys. Especially good looking ones," she made a motion to reach for him, all in the nature of the game, the cold glint in her eye still visible, if not a little flirtatious, but, her lips quirked, parting open and—

"Damn right," Grimmjow growled in her ear, possessively taking hold of her, snatching her away from Ulquiorra. "And _I'm_ the best lookin' one out of the whole fucking lot!"

"That…" Karin murmured, one eye open, watching Ulquiorra lazily like a cat somewhat interested in its prey. "… is certainly the truth."

The melancholic Arrancar looked away poignantly, averting his eyes from the scene that lay before him, while the slumbering child-Arrancar remained ignorant.

"Are you quite finished?" Curtly asking, Ulquiorra wished that the moment would end, wondering why he put up with this. They were merely annoyances… that he had grown quite accustomed to, and in a beleaguering way, had possibly become family. Distant family, perhaps, but the bonds that were loose were still there.

But Rin… Karin… was something different altogether.

Her lips curved, as did her lover's, crimson lips stretched over pale white snow.

She was twisted, and beautifully broken.

"Let's go." She said; eyes hazy, breath husky, and cheeks faintly blemished powder pink.

"Where?" Grimmjow muttered absently, his mouth lowering down her neck, as she twisted to suit his desire. Absently, she wondered if the Wonder Boy was still sleeping, although a small content breath confirmed that; however, there were more pleasurable matters to take place. Such as enjoying the growl that sent shivers through her spine.

"… to the mortal world." Blue eyes darkened into black, cold and hard. Acutely, she felt Grimmjow stop, his teeth grazing her skin, his previous satisfied growl now turned predatorial. His hands that had been skimming her flesh, exploring in an idle manner transformed, tightening his grip on her. Yet she did not cry out. The pain, angry, bitter and reeking for the death of a certain _shinigami_, made her feel human; for Grimmjow's emotion had tethered her to sanity, unstable, constantly fluxing and refluxing, but in his presence… she did not feel alone.

She looked at him and saw another. And that was something that she dared not tell him, guiltily taking advantage of his similarity with more muscular features. And as along as she imagined, and did not share that dreadful secret… then it was all good. Karin knew that she was being stupid – Ulquiorra had told her as much, not in bold words, for he hadn't heard the whole story, only suspecting through murmured words muffled within pillows – Karin knew that she was going to get hurt, _if_ her hot-headed Arrancar with benefits, who was not considered a friend, merely a bantering cohort, ever found out the truth…

She had started it, and she would be damned if the _real reason_ would be the end of it. Regardless of the similarity or not, she enjoyed the arrangement between them, and was in no mood to stop. Slowly, she had accustomed herself to this place. It no longer felt like a prison, but it hadn't felt like home either.

Ulquiorra's emerald eyes flickered back to meet hers, neither shocked nor surprised, merely awaiting her next action; wondering why her attitude had changed so much, from predictable to unpredictable, and if she could be considered 'human' in the events that had yet to come, and had passed. Then, he noticed, ears sharpening at the last two words embittered from her deceitful mouth. She had said it so many times, absentmindedly, offhandedly, lethargically, but the full impact had never touched him until this very moment.

It had been a long time since Karin had considered 'her real home' home.

—

The wall was growing, pushing them apart, the rift almost visible to her grey-blue eyes.

He hadn't noticed – of _course_ he hadn't.

Hitsugaya had been lost in his own world, mulling over memories and chance encounters, brief conversations and fading faces. Aquamarine eyes blazed, hands in his pockets; the tenth taichou frowned, head downcast, puzzling over cryptic words that were forgotten as his mind tried to remember.

This, Matsumoto might add, looked very unattractive. Others may have called the pose mysterious, others may have dubbed it 'alluring', but Matsumoto personally thought that he looked older than his years – and that simply would not do, and therefore, the frown which actually suited his face, did _not_ belong there.

There was something wrong with that boy, and even if she was determined to find out what the matter was, Matsumoto Rangiku had a feeling that she would not be the one to solve it. As much as Hitsugaya-taichou trusted her, placing his own life in her hands… he would not let her save him. Perhaps physically, when the situation required it, but never mentally, never emotionally; despite her interventions and numerous attempts to bring out the optimist in him, the lighter side… that task was not meant for her. Relentlessly, easily, he evaded her, elusive like ice melting in her hands. He'd still be there, in liquid form, but nothing would change except for the barrier between them becoming more apparent.

Her taichou sighed, or rather, _huffed_, in Matsumoto's humble opinion, before walking away, his footsteps loud in the silence that had consumed their separate thoughts. And as always, it was she who broke the unfathomable silence.

"Hmm?" Wide eyes glanced in his direction, mouth parted, locks of auburn hair falling on her slim shoulder as she turned her head to follow his figure. "Taichou, where are you going?"

"… somewhere to think," Hitsugaya replied, furrowing his eyebrows and determined to be vague about his destination, speaking only the bare essentials. Small talk was pointless, and there was no point in lingering in a place that held no value for him; omitting the reason that Matsumoto was, in fact, a distraction, and coddling him would only hinder this; no amount of alcohol would ever be the solution.

"Want me to come with you?" She teased, mocking him for being so short in the past. At least that bond, which had grown and shrunk in the past five years, still remained. Smiling as Hitsugaya grimaced; they were opposites in more ways than one. But they worked well together, pushing each other, distantly and nearby, in bouts of anger and drunkenness; their simple relationship of taichou and fukitaichou, they were forced to live another day continuing the stalemate that the war had given them. She had sworn her allegiance to him, and would not be swayed, though her heart may differ.

"… and away from you." Hitsugaya Toushirou added, muttering quietly.

"Taichou, you're such a killjoy." Unfazed, she sighed, stretching her long arms.

But internally, she worried.

Still, there was the bitter truth that clung to her like the scarf that defined her slim neck: _she_ can't save him from himself.

Only he could do that; and he was too focused on the bigger picture to even correctly analyse and fix himself.

Because like his _bankai_ – he was frozen, in some way, stuck in a mental state where the only option was to move on and not look back. And only temper tantrums and acting like the kid he was supposed to _be_, maybe, just maybe, in the fields of soccer and a black haired captain of a different league, of a different system… could save him.

And with smiles and giggles that lifted as easily into the air as Hyourinmaru did for Hitsugaya; the Kurosaki girl could teach him how to be a kid again; living life to the fullest, because no matter what, whether they're solid or spirit, there's only one chance. And whether he took it, or left it, was completely up to him.

_She_ had made a difference, no matter how small, to him; and one difference was all it took… for Hitsugaya Toushirou to actually act his age and become comfortable in his skin.

Because if he kept this charade of acting cool and mature… then the pressure was eventually going to break him, with no one able to pick up the scattered pieces of ice. Matsumoto couldn't, her heart still connected to the fox-faced ex-taichou. But maybe, idle curiosity and naïve innocence would be able to, childlike hands sliding the picture into place.

But where was the girl with a wide tomboyish grin, a cynical sarcastic mindset, boldly defying him, treating him as an equal – a kid, just like herself. Where had she gone? The raven haired girl had disappeared, and with it, faded within the memory of Hitsugaya Toushirou. Maybe it was then that Matsumoto had noticed that his frowns seemed more prominent. Kurosaki Karin had been a distraction for Hitsugaya-taichou, had been good for him, pleasant, though he denied the very memory of it. But why, she could not say.

"Take care, taichou." Matsumoto Rangiku murmured, tangerine hair swaying in the wind; her back facing his, her hands resting on the soft earth. Though she could not save him, she could speak words of comfort, although he was his choice if he listened to them, keeping them near his heart, or if he cast them away.

Hitsugaya Toushirou kept on walking.

—

Kurosaki Isshin was no fool, albeit he liked to hide under the pretext to fool and shelter his family from his past, despite it finding them nonetheless; he still remained in the living world. Why? Because he hoped that one day, they would return, together or separately, it didn't matter. But his house that had once been happy, with a bustling family of five, was now reduced to a silent mansion, where dust resided and the rooms seemed too big, basking in the memories that once were, lingering in possibilities that had never happened since normality was not part of their stature.

Masaki…

Ichigo…

Karin…

Yuzu…

One by one, they left him, whether it was out of duty, their emotions, forced circumstances, he was the only who remained in his empty house with Kon. He didn't blame them, but still he worried. Even goofy fathers who acted like idiots cared about their dysfunctional offspring. His children were a weird lot, save sweet Yuzu, and he couldn't change them for the world.

He just wished that they would visit him sometimes.

"Yuzu…" He murmured, hands gripping the bed's frame, as he gazed at the comatose girl, her chest rising and falling like crescendos and diminuendos in music. "Yuzu. Do you think that you'll wake up in time for your birthday?" His hold loosed, as he moved to sit besides her, grazing her curled hand, his fatherly affection almost overpowering him to hug her. Instead, he relented, squeezing her hand, so small in his. "If not then, someday. One day, right? You'll wake up one day. Promise me."

He knew that there was life beyond death. He knew about the Soul Society and the places that she could end up at. He knew secrets that he had tried to keep hidden from his family. Still, it didn't deter him from being anxious about his children.

Perhaps he worried too much, perhaps he worried not enough.

Was it sinful for a man who wanted to keep his family together and under his protection forever? It wasn't a sin to have the feeling, but… he had to let them go, one day. Otherwise, they'd be like caged birds, trapped in their towers, always looking out to the blue sky, envious of the lazy clouds that floated in such a tranquil manner. No, like freed birds, he'd let them go, but still, one bird, soft and gentle, remained.

But that remaining bird had yet to open her eyes, locked in a state where no one could access the key.

If—no, _when_ she opened her eyes, he'd aid her, mending her broken wing, watching with father pride and a fragile smile; but when the time came, and she decided to fly for freedom, he would let her. No arguments, no fights, just unadulterated love, with a hug that may be a tad _too_ tight.

Until then, he would take care of her, hoping for the days that would both love and fear.

After all, it was the inevitable.

He would wait, with the blue sky as his comfort.

—

"Seriously… _why _the fuck do you keep returning to this place?" Grimmjow grunted, squatting on the ground; feet scarring the green grass, staining his black shoes with mud. He scowled, inadvertently spitting, at the mess he'd made. He liked his shoes mud-free, although he couldn't say the same if it was _blood_ instead. "This place ain't got jack. No _shinigami, _no people with high _reiatsu_. And it definitely ain't got—"

"—_Kurosaki Ichigo._" Both Rin and Ulquiorra drolly finished his sentence; though Karin only said her surname, the habit of saying 'Ichi-nii' still bitterly tasted on the tip of her tongue, the cracks of her lips. Slowly, the word was beginning to lose its power, even though the bonds and implications still held her in a dying light, slowly diffusing into nothing.

Bonds didn't last forever, even if they weren't easily severed.

Karin rolled her eyes. "I know, I know. Now quit yapping about it."

"Can it, Rin." Grimmjow Jeagerjaques smirked, amused, despite the annoyance that grew inside him; he ruffled her hair. Both made her mad, the messing up of her hair, and the pseudonym that held an identity that she did not like. Names and nicknames… she understood their use, but would always hear them with contempt. "Didn't I say that ya can't talk shit like me?"

She handed him a twisted grin, widened only for his presence and a fox-faced ex-_shinigami._ "Oh, of course, but who's to say that I have to obey?" She stretched her arms, feeling the sun on her skin and breathed in the oxygen, pure compared to the air in Las Noches, far easier to inhale. "You know I have a knack for disobeying orders."

"… tell me, Rin," Ulquiorra said, indifferent eyes coldly scanning over the horizon, his foot crushing the earth beneath it. "What are you planning?"

Still in her flirtatious mood, Rin placed her finger on her mouth, winking. "Top secret. That's for me to you, and you to find out; except don't. Butt out, just this once." She took a step back, indicating that she wanted to ditch them. Of course, she would return, but it crossed their minds that she might try to delay that, having done it before, and claiming that she'd go when she was good and ready to go from this sorry place of a town.

She twisted, her back facing them, her long hair left loose and reaching her thighs.

And Grimmjow was there, stealing a kiss and crushing her body against his, hands possessively over her arms. After all, she was _his._ "Yer coming back." He growled, hot breath heating her pale face, biting her lips, nearly drawing blood.

"Course I am. What, you _want_ me to stay in this backwater two when I've got you – you sexy man beast?" She was tempted to add 'muffin' only to ignite his anger once more, but felt that would push it. Not that she already was; she had a penchant for it, after all, but still. She could only do so much until he broke; until she broke. But she maintained her mocking façade, hiding her true colours and motivations, grinning for the sake of a sneaky persona and for the childish desire of teasing manipulation.

Somehow, her eyes managed to meet Ulquiorra's, who gazed at her, penetrating that shield with uncanny ease. "Remember." He inclined his head, poised as always, though his disgust was veiled behind jade eyes.

_Remember._ Oh, she did, and she had no intention of forgetting what had passed between them.

It was only one word, but it tore at her from the inside, stirring up a million memories with generically blurred faces, and words that whispered in her ears, blowing softly through her thick hair. Eyes widening, she blinked, attempting to keep her expression as neutral as possible. "I don't know what you mean. I suppose it doesn't matter either way." Shrugging, Rin disengaged herself from Grimmjow's grip, looking away into the distance. "You know where to find me, I suppose."

And with that, she _shunpo_'d away.

"Stop it." Grimmjow snarled angrily. "She's _mine._"

With cool eyes, Ulquiorra glanced at his lesser comrade, belittling him. "How astute." He _would_ think that, though Ulquiorra Schiffer knew better.

"Dumb ass. Of course we know where to find her." Coarse hands raked through blue hair, electric eyes gleaming.

She was a Kurosaki, after all; she had not learnt how to master her _reiatsu_ control.

"How astute."

And if she wanted to be found, Ulquiorra would find her, every single time.

It was his duty, not his emotions that led him to this decision, though the melancholic Arrancar would never confirm this. Or so he'd like to believe.

—

Being invisible sucked. Well, no, that wasn't completely true; but to a certain extent, it _was._

The passing through was awesome – interesting because she was isolated from everybody else, not just because of a bracelet that granted her that power. After a while, however, the excitement faded, and somehow, living after _another_ car passed through her, and speeding motorbikes didn't seem as exhilarating as the first time. And the people that passed through her… as if she was a ghost, Karin lost her fascination when she realized that she was less than a mere ghost; and the people who surrounded her… didn't care. And the loneliness that she had walled around her heart consumed her.

There were so many negative thoughts that were swallowing her, and with dismay, she could sense it, slowly eroding her composure and control over her emotions. Sooner or later, she was going to break down. Struggling, Karin shook her head, trying to rid herself of these negative thoughts. She had to be _strong_, not weak; if not for herself, then for—

It was best not to continue that road, that bitter trail of thought.

She turned, gasping in surprise as another person passed her, still a shock compared to metal vehicles. She gazed unseeingly at the scenery, disorientated.

_Where… where am I?_

The problem was that it had been such a long time since Karin had been here that she had forgotten where to go. She had no idea where everything was, where everything should be; and the back of her hand no longer contained a memory of the town, rendering the expression 'know it like the back of my own hand' useless.

She was a stranger. In a town that had become a different world. And Karin felt it now more that ever, behind her hard and uncaring heart.

Kurosaki Karin… did not belong here.

Her eyes widened at the disturbing realization. To hear it as a passing thought was one thing, easily forgotten under the presence of Arrancars and the bonds that she had built with Ulquiorra and Grimmjow; but to admit and wholly realize what that thought meant, not just as a careless action, as a severance that scarred remnant of her… her _past_ made her—

Step.

_Her—_

Step.

She was running before Karin had the chance to realize that her special bangle was sliding off her wrist.

She gasped, crashing, barely transient to fall through the person she had been avoiding; clattering to the ground in a circular pattern, the silver bangle lay forgotten as her knees scraped against the cold floor and her hands connected to the ground, protecting and preventing from falling on her face. Long black hair slid down her face, tracing unmarked tears that threatened to fall; concealing flushed cheeks. Sighing, Karin inhaled deeply, making a firm resolution to maintain a strong bravado – she was _fine, _despite what had just happened. Minor inconvenience, that's where the gift of improvisation came into play. Maybe, just maybe, she could fool the person she had collided into with an excuse; a ridiculous excuse, but an excuse nonetheless. Would a magician do? Karin faced the person that she crashed into, freezing instantly.

And fought the urge to run, calming herself by closing her closing her eyes and exhaling _hard_, and by fixing her hair in place, to bide herself time, reassessing her motives.

Claiming that she was a magician and saying that she had some magic tricks, would not fool Hitsugaya Toushirou.

"Hey, Hitsugaya," Karin twisted her face into a sneaky grin, cheerfully improvising and maintaining an easy image. "It's been a while. How are you?"

—

"_Rin."_

_She rolled her eyes, tilting her head sideways, annoyed. She'd glare, except the effect was lost on him. He was quite oblivious sometimes; though he'd disagree, privately citing that it was __**she**__ who was the __**oblivious**__ woman who he'd never understand; but that matter was neither here nor there. _

"_Karin." She corrected._

"_Karin, then." Acquiescing, the melancholic clown abided with her simple request, despite preferring not to be too intimate. She refused to be called 'woman' as Karin had pointed out in the past, she wasn't 'that old' yet._

"_Yes, Ulquiorra?" Smiling, she pulled a funny face, her harsh voice sickly sweet, almost like a doting housewife._

"_Are you sure that you aren't wasting away these… wishes?" He enquired, puzzled behind his polite façade, his stoic face._

"_If wishes were horses, beggars would ride; if wishes were fishes, we'd all cast our lines." She shrugged, trying to wave away the subject, grinning darkly as she knew he would pursue it. "If you must know, I'm saving the last one. Third one's the charm."_

"_You won't be using the last one anytime soon?" Noting, his eyebrows furrowed slightly. Mute, he watched her reaction, the smallest hint of tensing, followed by her raven tresses falling across her shoulder as she turned her head and faced him with two blue eyes._

"… _no. But I will use it. Before…" She stopped, a finger resting in the middle of her lip, cautious in thought. "Before I… well you know, as well as I do. Everything's going to change."_

"_How can you be so certain?"_

_Her clouded eyes lightened, softening under his gaze. "I can't, but… it's a feeling, you know? And it hasn't gone away. Not since… not since I first heard of it." She stepped back, her hands unconscious hugging her skinny arms; a defence mechanism that she didn't seem to be aware of. "And, it's there… that growing fear that they'll never…"_

_She didn't finish that sentence; she didn't have to, as Ulquiorra knew the rest of it all too well. Her dreams and whispered murmurs were his secrets; and they were twisted versions of the truth, but were said more honestly than any word she ever spoke. She, who loved to tease and replace, battering only her damaged heart. And all he could do, in those late nights, when a silver tear trickled down her face, was shift her closer towards him, not quite human contact, but some form of it, just to prove to her, still stuck in slumber, that he still remained by her side._

"_Karin. I wouldn't abandon you." He murmured, his voice almost inaudible, but Karin heard him, regardless of her lack of reaction. "I promised, didn't I?"_

"_Yeah," Karin gave a sad smile, trouble and still partially bitter, embedded in a sea of unwanted memories. Reaching out, her hand nearly touched him, his cold skin just beyond her fingertips; but he remained motionless, and her hand, which was so small in that moment, crumpled, unlike her passive face. "But sometimes I wonder…"_

_It wasn't doubt; Ulquiorra convinced himself, it was more like loneliness of humanity, which grew smaller as each day passed. And she could see it, he realized, like a ship's sail sinking, sinking, out of view, swallowed up within a bubble of water, never to submerge… and she'd be in the absence of it; accustoming herself to be… a monster. But in his eyes, spun emerald, she would never be a monster. Both of them didn't notice that his hands clenched, in dismay of those beliefs._

"_You have me." He said softly; his baritone voice quiet in her elfin-like ears. "And as long as you need me… I'm here."_

_It was a lie, not of non-fiction; but a lie of omniscience. He simply wasn't telling her the full story, for his allegiances were blurring in his mind, and the one who he had unquestionably pledged his honour to… had diminished in importance._

_And for once, he wished that could initiate contact to comfort her._

_But she had drawn the line, stepping back, dazed, and looking at him with bemusement, incomprehensive of the emotions that she felt. _

—

"…" Cold eyes flicked to her, taking in her gangly form. "And you are?"

"Aw. Don't tell me that you've forgotten already." Pulling a face, she feigned disappointment, dark eyes searching for jewellery that show have stayed on her wrist and kept her invisible. "It's only been month… am I really that unimportant to you?"

This time, the tenth taichou refused to answer, still trying to remember her name. His eyes glazed, and the mysterious girl noticed, up for the mood of teasing. He always was fun to tease, despite him saying otherwise.

She grinned, distracting him with her white teeth. "I'll give you a clue if you ask nicely."

"… starts with a 'K'." He murmured, unaware of her reaction; obvious to the paling face, and the clenched hands, nails digging into her skin. But he did notice the spike of _reiatsu_, and for that, he gave her a reprimanding look. "You said that, didn't you?"

And her face twisted, oddly faced. Her voice was slow and scathing. "Well, give the elementary student a prize." She barely hissed, refraining from clapping her hands mockingly, or seething in anger. "So you _do _remember, Hitsugaya." His name was spat out, as if it was vulgar to say; her attitude so different from her more amicable personality. It was hard restrain the anger and the bitterness that bottled up inside, especially because of his blank, indifferent expression.

Something flickered through his icy eyes, scarcely discernable. His mouth tightened, yet his posture remained relaxed, though slightly tense because he was unsure of the next move. And a sparkle caught his eye, lost from the eyes of people in their own world. And with a calm demeanour, he turned away from her; darkened eyes never leaving him, walking towards the bangle that lay untouched in the street. Picking it up, he sensed her _reiatsu _spike, cautious and fearful. Surprised, he glanced at it, sensing nothing special about it. But he saw the panic that flashed in her dark eyes, the look that inevitably crossed her pretty face, despite being a trifle thin. Sighing, he held it out, his fingers barely holding the small bracelet.

"This is yours, right?"

She nearly snatched it out of his hands, protective of it; but refrained. Instead, she slowly picked it up with controlled movements, careful not to make it suspicious. Unconsciously, she gave a soft smile when she held it in her hands, drawn to her gift. "… thank you."

And her smile widened, so bright and full of life. Gratitude shone through her black eyes, her apple red cheeks, and her aura seemed to have stabilized, no longer switching from one emotion to another, draining her energy.

"Someone close gave it to me." She explained.

Ulquiorra had given it to her.

Lost for words, the _shinigami_ merely nodded, his white hair longer than she remembered, and for a second, she wondered if it was as soft as snow, like had been beneath her fingertips, years ago, when they had met. Sliding his hands into his pockets, tight grey jeans like always, and a black shirt to match; he turned to go, stepping away, and never attaining her forgotten name.

In that instant, a fear grew in her heart, clenching it harder than it had ever done before. She'd grab his shirt and latch her arms around him if she wasn't so conflicted. Because… she didn't want to lose him – not _now_ – because she wanted to… she wanted…

"Wait!" She cried out, hair billowing in the wind, desperate not to let him walk away.

Head tilting, Hitsugaya faced her, bemused at her behaviour. "What is it now?"

She stepped back, slightly nervous, although she tried not to show her sheepish grin. "Uh… could you take me to the hospital? I'm new and I haven't been able to remember all the routes. Usually I stick with my companions—"

"Always good advice." She heard Hitsugaya mutter, beneath his breath, but she ignored him.

"—but I wandered, and so I'm lost. But… there's someone close to me that I want to visit there." _Technically_ a lie, but it was where she wanted to go, and she couldn't remember her way around Karakura Town. Cursing her mind, she wished that her cheek wouldn't flush, showing her embarrassment, red and hot compared to her pale skin and dark attire; a contrast to him as he surveyed her with cool composure. But it gave her a good effect, and would help with the outcome. Karin offered him a small grin, polite but distant. "You think that you can take me there?"

Raking his hair, Hitsugaya Toushirou sighed. She wasn't as bad as Matsumoto, and he could use the distraction. "Follow me."

She smiled cheerily, far too big to fit her face, and made the peace sign. She had always wanted to do that, but somehow, Hueco Mundo never had the right atmosphere to do so.

—

It stood before them, looming shadows against its pale colour. The hospital was a tall building, just as Karin had expected, but she'd never though that there would be so many windows – spending half of her adolescent years in a world that was 'kill or be killed', 'survival of the fittest', had made her forget a few mundane things.

"Whoa…" She couldn't help but say, raising her hands to shield the sun that was in her eyes.

Hitsugaya snorted. "You act as if you've never seen a hospital before."

Bristling, she bit back a retort, teasing him instead; smirking as she knew it would annoy him. "Oh, you can talk – you elementary student who can't remember my name."

"I am _not_ an elementary student!" He rolled his eyes, waiting for her to move and leave him alone. Yet, as the seconds passed by, the girl did not move, she who black and let her thick hair loosely sway in the breeze. When he decided to look at her once more, she was sitting on the ground, legs spread out, her hands resting on the ground. When he realized that she had no intention of moving, Hitsugaya toyed with the idea of leaving her, to return to his normal routine of life, but desisted, and stayed by her side, lingering in minutes silence, before losing his patience and blunting asking her. "Are you going to go in?"

She hesitated, rendered speechless, and her downcast head made her glad that Hitsugaya couldn't see her face. She was _here._ And for some reason, she didn't want to enter the hospital. Mulling over her reasons, her future, her past, her forgotten friends and her left behind family, guilt bubbled inside her, and it was hard to suppress the emotion.

"… no. I don't think so." She let out a nervous laugh, as if she didn't understand it herself. "It's funny, I had every intention to see her… to apologize, I guess. We… we were so close, that I swear we shared dreams or something. And… I was always knew if she was okay or not, knowing roughly where she was. I couldn't read her mind or anything, that so damn stupid, but I could read her pretty well. But after… something happened… we lost touch." It was a mild way of putting it. "I owe her so much. But… with the opportunity, the actual _visiting_… I don't think I can go through with it."

He was unresponsive, Karin noted with slight contempt. She'd expected that much. They were _strangers,_ she bitterly reminded herself, and had not made any attempt to help him, save cryptic clues. Had she told about Yuzu? She couldn't remember; and if she had, it was unlikely that he'd recall it. She hadn't told him her name, and she was going to.

"Tell me, what will you do now?" Hitsugaya quietly asked, attracting her attention. His clears eyes bored into hers, and she struggled not to look away.

It was annoying, she thought, as she fought another blush, that he could still make her _feel_ like this, after everything that had happened to her. He was still intense, like always; and yet…

The wind played with her hair, lifting and tangling raven locks, ever so slightly, but just enough that it hid her face.

"I… I don't know. I think… I think I'll go home. I know where the hospital is, thanks to you, Hitsugaya, and one day, when I've grasped the courage, I'll see her." _Maybe._ It was a pretty thought, and she hoped that one day, she could achieve it. But now, in this day and age, with the upcoming… she faltered, ridding herself of those thoughts. Best not to go there.

"Take small steps then; so be it if they help you. It's not like it's my business." The icy taichou replied, shrugging. He ignored the look that crossed her faced, remaining motionless.

She laughed at that, suddenly carefree. "You're right. It's not. Never was to begin with." She stretched her arms, relishing the sun. "Help me up?" She offered her hand, and he took it, pulling her up with ease; aquamarine eyes noticing that her smile widened, as she swayed to her feet, not quite comfortable with motion. "Thanks." The girl let go of his hand, not wanting unnecessary contact.

Puzzled, Hitsugaya Toushirou observed her. Her moods changed as often as the weather. One moment she was happy, another contemplative, the next… so disconnected with the world. Who was she? This girl was human, unaware of _reiatsu_ –he could tell that much, but still, she was such a mystery.

Then he noticed the dimple in her cheek, and the sparkle in her eyes, and Toushirou wondered if he thought too much.

Unexpectedly, she yawned, arms moving as if she was in a concert. "Mm. I think I'd better go now. Tired, you see." Perhaps her odd sleeping patterns had something to with Wonderwice and Ulquiorra?

"I guess you'd better go, then." He sighed, aquamarine eyes not leaving hers.

But she didn't move; her face adorned with a sneaky smile. Vaguely, he wondered if that was a bad thing. It was confusing to think around her.

"I suppose. Still, I ought to give you my thanks." She drawled, grinning, the smile not leaving her face, and stepped closer, nearer to him, invading his personal space. "You don't mind, of course?"

"It's fine. You're welcome." He was just doing his duty, he supposed; helping random girls who claimed to be part of his past was… something that Inoue—_Ishida_ Orihime – she was a married woman now, he reminded himself, would say. He'd been spending too much time with her, and her offbeat personality had rubbed off on him. Better her than Matsumoto.

He didn't expect the girl to kiss his cheek, warmth from her soft lips lingering for a moment; a small giggle floated in the air, like a football as light as a bubble. A silver sparkle caught his eye, flickering only for a moment.

He didn't expect his cheeks to burn, melting his composure because she had taken him unawares.

But, by the time that he had blinked and turned to face her, regaining some semblance of cool control, she was…

… gone.


	11. life, midway

**b u t t e r f l i i e . d r a g o n**

life, midway

"_But, you? You're the real selfish bitch."_

* * *

It's hot. Too hot.

He's sweating. Perspiring. Twitching.

Shallow breaths, rapid inhalations… he can feel himself going under.

And he'll do anything that can stop the pain.

—

"_Kami, _look at the window… it's…"

"Well, he _is_ the ice taichou."

"I know, but…"

Hitsugaya Toushirou isn't listening, his mind somewhere else.

—

"_What the hell do you think you're doing?"_

_The thrown chair has splintered, with no hope of reparation._

_She hides in the shadows, her face obscured by darkness. But her anger is clear to see. It's in the way she holds herself, hands clenched, body rigid; how intense her anger is._

"_I could ask you the same thing." Terse, she frostily replies._

_She might be crying, but her voice conceals it. He hopes that she's not crying. Hitsugaya has always been hopeless at comfort._

_The soutaichou frowns, before opening his mouth to ask her to elaborate, but she beats him to it._

"_Why are you doing this?" Anger slips into her tone, no longer the neutral coldness that seems so odd, coming from her. She exhales, trying to control her emotions, but can't help but succumb to them. "What the __**fuck**__ are you doing here?"_

_She spits, wiping her mouth, as if to prove to him that she is nothing more than a feral animal. And in doing that, she is disassociating herself with him._

_You and me. We're done._

_Except it's not that. It's not that at all._

"_Do you think I'm some kind of…" And she chokes, as if the next word she says is made of acid and bitterness and whatever she's going to say just doesn't compare to what she's really feeling. "… plaything?"_

_Her words are like a knife, cutting him right where it hurts._

"_Do you think you can just use me – and throw me away when something, __**someone**__ comes along; that's bigger and better than me?"_

_Raw emotion seeps through, and fuck, his heart isn't supposed to ache._

"_Because, clearly, Hitsugaya, that's what's happening. And I'm fed up with being a tool. A damn plaything." The rage is gone, but a cold exterior emanates, lowering her voice and making the words harsher, the edge more apparent. _

_If his heart was made of paper, she'd be tearing it in halves by now._

"_**She's**__ awake, so go spend your time with her. I never asked for your pity. In fact…" Her voices rises, and it's sharp like a blade. "I never asked you for anything at all."_

_She steps forward, and she's shaking so badly, but there's not a tear mark on her face._

"_I never asked you to __**visit**__ me. I never asked you to keep __**me**__ company. I never asked you to make me—" She freezes; catching her breath, aware of what she's about to say isn't something she wants to slip. It isn't something that she wants him to know._

_He blinks and the moment is gone._

_And Hitsugaya Toushirou can see her withdraw into herself, nails digging into her flesh so hard that they must be drawing blood. The flecks of light that can let him glimpse at her face falter, submerging into the darkness that makes her nothing more than a shadow._

"_Get out." She says, breath heavy, no longer looking at him. "Get the fuck out."_

_But he doesn't._

_For some reason, he just can't move, because she's so—_

"_Listen to me, you bastard: I don't want to see you __**ever**__ again! Go and fuck your pretty princess, kiss her if it so damn pleases you, do whatever the hell you like, but don't you ever come back. I am not the person you need to feel sorry for! So, get the fuck out of my sight, and never come back."_

_He walks away, and never looks back._

_And if he hears a smothered sob behind him, then it's purely his imagination._

—

_Hinamori's never looked more beautiful than when she smiles at him._

_That's when he knows._

_It's not the same._

_The problem is he doesn't know why._

—

"_Is there something wrong, Shirou-chan?"_

"_No." He shakes his head, letting her use his nickname this one time. "… it's nothing."_

—

… _it's just a feeling that won't go away._

_That's all it is._

_It doesn't mean anything._

_It doesn't._

"_Hey, Kurosaki!" A faceless classmate calls, their intent nothing more than malice. "When are you going to stop acting like a bitch?"_

"…" _She stares at him, dark eyes glowering. Kurosaki, if anything, looks paler than usual, skin stretched like broken bone._

"_Don't." Another classmate says, tugging on the previous classmate's sleeve. "She looks awful. I don't think she's been sleeping, but… I think we should leave her alone. Like she wanted."_

_And the smile that creeps across Kurosaki's face is nothing more than twisted, black comedy at this farce. "At least one of you has remnants of a brain left. Mind your own fucking business, what I do is solely my concern. Slaying Hollows and the like…" She pauses, dark eyes thoughtful, as if she is on a different level, somewhere far, far away. "Well. You can't lose your emotions when in combat; you've got to rely on cold logic. When you've fucked up, make the best of it. Hell knows that there's no turning back. You make your choices, and you stick to 'em. You wanna know why I act like a bitch?" Her eyes are cold and hard and there is no room for mercy. "I'm just making sure that the distance is never crossed. I'm not going to save your own ass, just because you're so fucking weak."_

_There's a pause, and she adds._

"_I'm not going to die for you."_

_With that, she sits in her place and doesn't bat a single eyelash in their direction._

_But… the classmate is right._

_Kurosaki looks tired, like she hasn't been sleeping, and she's so thin._

_He wonders if anyone else can see her vulnerability, the small tremors that draw blood into her hand._

_He wonders if this is his fault._

—

"_What's wrong?" Hinamori Momo asks again, delicate and breakable. "Tell me. Please, Shirou-chan."_

"_There's __**nothing**__ wrong." He doesn't know why he wants to be somewhere else so desperately. But… he made a commitment to her, to make sure she's okay, and as long as she's not, he'll be here. He's the one who looks out for her. He'll be the one who will always protect her._

_For Momo._

_All this is for Momo because he—_

_Because he loves her._

"_But there is!" She insists, violet eyes watery, so big and childlike. "There is, Shirou-chan! And you… you…"_

_Shit._

_**Shit.**_

_He didn't mean to – he never means to, but—_

"_Momo…"_

"_I look at you… and…" Her voice is low, drawn out like a whisper. "… and sometimes it's like you're not there. Like, you're far away, and there's no… there's no return. You're somewhere far, far away." Walls are crumbling, insecurity is seeping through the cracks, and all Hinamori Momo can do is latch onto Hitsugaya Toushirou. "And, it's like you can't see me… because, I'm not there. Not where…"_

—_but he hurts __**her**__ nonetheless._

_He's so distant with her._

_She's not where he wants her to be._

_He takes her hand, and holds it._

"_I'm sorry. It's just… work." His eyes soften, apologetic. It doesn't feel like a lie. Not completely. "I still haven't managed to get used to it."_

"_Oh." Realization flickers onto her face, and a ghost of a smile touches her lips, relieved. "Work. Yes, of course. I understand. It's just… I thought there was someone else."_

"_Matsumoto isn't here anymore. Relief is hard to come by, so I… I spend it with you." A humourless laugh escapes, bitter. "Strange, I was always complaining about her, and yet… she was exactly what I needed."_

_And Momo clasps both his hands, so cold in her own, and meets his eyes, murmuring. "You have me."_

"_I have you."_

_It's like the days before Seireitei, before Aizen, before anything ever started, and it was just Hinamori, Granny and himself._

_The smile that reaches his face doesn't feel real, and he hates himself for that._

—

"_She misses you," Ishida Orihime tells him one day, handing him an orange, untouched and simple. _

_She offers him a sad smile, before elaborating._

"_Karin-chan. She won't say it, but I can tell." _

_She's standing at the door, looking at him with a wistful expression._

"_You should eat that. You look a little under the weather, and oranges are good for you."_

—

_It takes the classmates far longer than it should to realize that their scowling, glowering, ice-bitch, angst-muffin, loner girl is related to Kurosaki Ichigo._

"_No way!" One of them gasps. "You're the person who—"_

"_Yeah." Blunt, she interrupts him. "That was me."_

"_So why didn't you—"_

"_Why should I? I'm not denying it; but I never hid from the truth. You guys just never asked me." Sneering, her dark eyes smoulders; not caring the some classmates shrank back. "Go ahead, make you fucking assumptions about what I did. If I was right, or if I was wrong; if it's enough to make you leave me alone, then think whatever the hell you want."_

"_Hey, how did you know?" One classmate asks the inquisitive classmate._

"_My brother let something slip when I mentioned… her."_

_Her… obviously being Kurosaki Karin._

_And something sets her off._

"_You don't get it do you – why don't you leave me the __**fuck**__ alone?"_

_Nobody notices that her cheeks rise in colour, and Hitsugaya Toushirou only notices because he's paying such detail to her, and he doesn't know why he's here in the first place._

_Class is starting._

_He thinks that she'll be okay._

_He's wrong._

—

_Students are running, shouting about some match or something._

_It could be nothing._

_But it's worth checking out._

_It's a fist-fight. Or something like that. Their zanpakutou have been taken away from them. So, their fight is rough and dirty and desperate and angry with punches and kicking and grunts and pain._

_Loss of control._

_Kurosaki Karin has lost control and it's like nothing he's seen before._

_There's blood and bruises and sweat and it's everything but pretty._

_And nobody seems to be doing anything, except watch._

_They aren't cheering, they aren't holding them apart, because their so damn scared._

"_Take it back." Kurosaki Karin says, holding her fist up aiming it for a punch. "Fuck's sake, take it back!"_

"_I meant every word." The boy says, slightly nasal due to his broken nose and speaking through blood. And he's laughing so softly, that everyone can see him shaking, and Hitsugaya Toushirou bets that the laughter is mockery to Karin's ears._

_She punches him, and that classmate is silenced._

_He knows that look in her eyes, the ones that blaze in anger and if no one reins it in, there's going to be trouble. These students know nothing of the extent of Karin's rage, and how much destruction she can reach. After all, she was only able to go to the Academy was because she could be monitored and so that people could know that her powers could be controlled. If she was kept in prison all the time, well, who knows what could happen._

_And Toushirou is there, within a heartbeat; forcing Karin onto her feet, and moving her away from the unconscious classmate so she can do no more damage, though she gives him one last kick that's bound to leave a mark. She's shaking and trembling and her hands are stained with so much blood that—_

_She needs to vent._

_Kami. She's struggling to breathe because she can't handle this._

"_Is it true?" She shouts, not at him, but to air, open air, so that many people will listen, and gossip spreads like wildfire in Soul Society. Karin's given up trying to stifle her emotions, because she's been pushed so much and… and she just can't hope. But she doesn't fight him. She doesn't fight him. Karin's letting him hold her, grabbing onto her arms and making sure that he's got her well and good so that she doesn't inflict more damage on the students._

"_Fuck's sake, orange-berry! Ichigo! Tell me if it's true!" It's a scream of desperation, of reassurance because she wants to know the truth. And only Ichigo, her big brother, can tell her._

_And Hitsugaya Toushirou lets her speak, because like others, he's simply stunned._

"_Did you, or did you not, give up on me when I was fucking prisoner to the Arrancar?"_

_There is only silence burning them all._

"_Did you never even __**consider**__ that Aizen had kidnapped me until I was right before your fucking eyes?"_

_The murmurs are gone, and everybody focuses on her, not knowing what to think._

"_Answer me!"_

_But there is no answer. Ichigo never responds to her questions._

_Only implications linger, bitter on the taste of his tongue._

_Her muscles slacken, and the aggressiveness is gone. Murmuring something to him, she lets him lead her to wherever he wants, never putting up a fight. The crowds part, letting them go their way, but the eyes that follow their shadow are heavy and pitiful._

_They don't know what to think._

_Neither does Hitsugaya Toushirou._

—

"_Come on." He gruffly says to her, sighing, pulling her into his quarters. "Let's get you cleaned up."_

_Mute, she accepts his help, fingers twitching as a towel is the only distance between them. Her eyes are dead and blank, like she's turned into an automaton._

_She's never looked so weary, so resigned._

"_You are more trouble than you're worth." Grumbling, he wipes her bloody hands, taking care that no stains are left behind, absentmindedly noting that her face and clothes are caked in blood splatter. Maybe she gave the boy more than just a nosebleed._

_Really. He should hand her to the Fourth Division. Make sure she's been taken properly examined or something._

"… _sorry." She mumbles, flinching when he begins to wipe her cheeks. _

"_What the hell was that?" Reprimanding her, he stops playing nurse. _

"_He provoked me." Dully, she admits, averting her eyes._

"_Provoked you or not, you don't act like that. Kami. You could have __**killed**__ the boy! You have no idea how much trouble you're in."_

"_Oh, I have a fair amount." Dryly, Karin says, pallid face dark. "Being in prison, that kind of rot. I'm just digging my own grave." She is morbidly amused by her joke._

"_Shut up." He snaps, infuriated by her attitude. "When are you going to stop being so self-centred?"_

"_You think that's self-centred? I'm just…"_

"_Just?"_

_Her black eyes glimmer. "I just want them to leave me alone, and they…"_

"_Nonetheless, you can't do that." His voice has an edge to it. Rules are rules. _

"_You don't think I know that? Dammit, I try so damn hard!" Emotion colours onto her cheeks; indignation and humiliation. And cold black irises turn into midnight blue. "But… it's too much. And I don't… I don't think I can cope with this much longer."_

_Exhaling, he mulls over the information, fetching water so he can turn it into ice blocks. _

"_Okay. As soutaichou, I can vouch for you just this once. This is your only chance. But, any time, you feel like this again, promise me that you'll talk to someone." Sighing, he applies ice on her skin, nearly the same temperature. "Don't make me regret it."_

_Karin eyes meet his, unrelenting. "I won't."_

_She flinches; the ice is too cold for her flesh._

"_Sorry." She mumbles. "… about before. I was…" _

"_Tired." He finishes her sentence. "You're tired. Get some sleep."_

_Karin hesitates. "… yeah, it's not so easy."_

_Another sigh escapes his mouth. Great. _

_Well, as soutaichou, he could also let this one go. Just this once. And never again._

"_Okay. You can sleep here, just this once, alright?"_

_An eyebrow arches, but she says nothing. Instead, she smiles, a little hopelessly._

… _it looks nice._

"_Thanks."_

—

_She takes the bed. He takes the couch._

_When he wakes up, she's gone._

_And Hinamori Momo is there instead._

—

"_Hey," she smiles at him, carrying a watermelon. "I found it and thought you might want some."_

"_Thanks."_

"_Rough night?" She asks, slicing up the melons, quarters, just like she used to._

"_Must have been. Yeah." _

_It's a bit of a blur, swallowed down with breath mints._

_(He doesn't know why he's so disappointed, doesn't know why she doesn't mention Karin.)_

_(Doesn't know when Karin left.)_

_He doesn't remember a blanket on him when he fell asleep._

—

_Kurosaki is daydreaming, blissfully ignoring the classmates' taunts. Some of them are even avoiding her. She's gazing out the window, hand covering her mouth, and suddenly she sees him, midnight blue sliding across the horizon, catching his eye with her own._

_She doesn't move. Her reiatsu remains the same._

_But there's a slight twitch of her mouth, mainly obscured by her hand._

_But it's there, and Hitsugaya sees it._

_And he can't help but smile back._

_Hitsugaya doesn't know when Hinamori Momo discovers Karin; but the minute she did, a confrontation between them was inevitable._

_And it's different but the same as before._

_He arrives too late; but the fight is teasing them, tension rising higher and higher as each one communicates, both following their hearts._

"_So which one is it?" Karin says, head tilted, black hair loose and swaying in the breeze. Her stature is calm and composed, and she looks like she's in control of the situation._

"_I—" Hinamori is at a loss, confusion etched on her face._

"_Don't answer the question if you don't know. But sort your priorities out." She shrugs, callous and uncaring. "See, I know what I feel. But you? This is the first time I've met you, so how am I to know?" There's something so infuriating about her blasé mannerisms, despite the pressure growing. Leaning in, she whispers. "So who is this about? You, him, or—"_

_Cold and indifferent, Karin catches Hinamori's wrist, slender fingers enclosed like a spider, her face giving away nothing._

"_Ah-ah-ah. That wasn't very nice. Me? I've been nice; I've answered all your questions. So really, I don't deserve to be slapped. You, however," she pauses thoughtfully, an evil glint sparkling in her eyes, revelling in the suspense. "… you have been less than nice. So what's it gonna be? Are you going to sort things out, or are you going to hurt people even more?"_

_And in that one motion, she lets go of her, using the momentum to let her other hand slap her hard, resounding in inertia. _

"_Me? I've been called selfish, I've been called a bitch, and you know what? I do what I do to survive. But, you? You're the real selfish bitch."_

_Karin's the taller of the two, Karin's the one in control, and Karin's much more refined than before._

_This time there is no guns blazing, wild emotion roaring in the air. This time, she is strategic, apathetic, using guilt to trip her opponent up._

_Kurosaki Karin grins, and there's nothing crueller than that. The stillness that is static crackles like electricity in the air._

"_And you deserved that."_

_He has to put an end to this._

"_Kurosaki?" Aquamarine blue meets midnight black._

"_Hey, I'm keeping that promise. I'm just having a little bit of fun." She laughs, as if this encounter is nothing more than a stepping stone to further the game. "Believe me when I say that everyone needs to be put down a peg or two. See, everyone needs help, but they just don't want, or realize it. Until intervention occurs, and these things just can't be denied."_

_Her eyes slide back and forth, and her grin transforms into a coy smile._

"_Defensive course of action, I promise. Nothing else happened, Hitsugaya-soutaichou." Her hands are raised to further emphasize her point. But her use of the honorific reverberates nothing more than twisted mockery, a jester enjoying her private joke of fools and clowns and the difference between them._

"_Hinamori?" He turns his head to see her, asking for confirmation._

_She's gone._

—

_Hinamori avoids him for a week._

—

_Eventually, he stops searching._

_But he never stops caring._

—

_He must be crazy. Seriously, seriously crazy._

"_You're taking me out?" The prisoner grins, a dimple visible as she walks out of the cell for the night. "Aw, Hitsugaya, I never even knew you had a heart. Do you do this to every prisoner, or am I just that special?"_

"_Shut up." Absentmindedly, he grumbles._

_It's just banter._

"_You got it, soutaichou. 'Tis your privilege to do as you please. Shutting up." Her smile is catlike, and he doesn't know why he bites back a smirk._

_Her offbeat demeanour is so different to Hinamori's; it's like a game of masks that are perpetually being changed within every second._

"_Where are we going then?"_

"_Dinner."_

"_That beats prison food."_

_He makes a reminder not to get her drunk; banning all alcohol from the menu._

—

"_Are you okay?" He asks, later that night._

"… _headache." Muttering, she tries to think, a hand pressing her temple lightly._

_He frowns._

_Did the cooks drug her?_

"_You seem… pale. Paler than usual." Observing her, he steps closer._

_Her cheeks flush._

"_It's nothing! I'm fine."_

"_Are you going to promise on that too?" Arching an eyebrow, a wry smile turns the corners of their lips upwards._

"_No. Not this time."_

—

_They're getting nearer to the prison, and slowing down their steps by the minutes._

"_Hey, this was fun. Thank you, Hitsugaya." _

_There's vulnerability in her that's never seemed this noticeable before._

"_You're welcome."_

_Then she blanches, stepping back, stepping forward, eyes rolling back, her reiatsu flaring out of control—_

"_Karin?"_

—_and she falls._

—

He's aware, but not in the zone known as 'real life'.

Someone is calling his name, stroking his hair, and for the life of him, he just can't recognize the voice.

But he hopes it's Karin, more than anybody else.


	12. the ventriloquist

**b u t t e r f l i i e . d r a g o n**

the ventriloquist

"_Goodbye."_

* * *

**One year ago.**

Running didn't have to include movement.

People can run without it, with words, bitterly thrown out into the air, open scars barely stitched together, bleeding a pretty shade of red, pink and white. They could be standing on the same ground, meeting eye to eye, and yet escape by deflecting the subject, hiding their deceit with a casual manner, a colloquial speech, shrugged in with an easygoing grin, sliding ever so easily on that person's face.

The truth could be right in front of them, and yet a million worlds apart.

And just like that, Karin had slipped on the silver bangle, dangling daintily on her bony wrist, catching the light though unseen in the crowd. She was invisible, and she liked it. She was invisible, and she hated it.

Humans were complex creatures, as they don't know what they want, they say what they don't mean; they lie and tell the truth and cry and bleed and become torn up because they bottle their notions up, seeking a release and eventually breaking down when everything had been burnt down to blackened ash. Humans try to run and act mature, they confront and act stupid, they mix themselves up between layers of loyalties and moralities and the bigger picture. And humans change, and adapt, because there's nothing else that they can do but live.

Karin was right in front of Toushirou.

Only, he couldn't see her.

They were a million worlds apart; they were standing in front of each other.

She was going to say goodbye.

—

However hard Karin tried, she could suppress a giggle at his reaction, laughter easily floating into the warm spring skies. It was to be expected, she supposed, and normal humans did not usually disappear within the blink of an eye when facing someone. Only _shinigami_ were able to contain abilities like that, and Kurosaki Karin was no _shinigami._ It was so stupid to think, that once, at a tender age when she was caught between naivety and learning the 'truth', that she had considered them _angels_.

Hitsugaya was, Kurosaki Karin had believed once, in a girly fantasy, with a soft smile twitching on her face, the _brightest_ and most _important_ angel of _all_, powerful and sleek and strong, and would forever protect her.

Dwelling back on it, Karin realized that it was just a piece of shit. Sentimental crap that Yuzu would fall for, always a romantic with her knight in shining armour riding gallantly in the corner, eagerly anticipating the slightest attempt to rescue his darling damsel in distress. Now, however, it made Karin laugh, knowing that the fantasy was idiotic, and she had never needed that much mush in her life.

It was only a thought, and the result was, five years later, when she came to think about it, and was caught in bad mood, nails dug into her skin, crescent shaped patterns lodged deep within the palms of her hands.

But Hitsugaya, cool, calm and collected, who stood before her very eyes, was faltering between a mixture of astonishment and glowering embarrassment. Yet the telltale sign of a fluster tinged onto his cheeks, faintly red, and Karin's mouth, the impulsive decision now reaped the benefits; her own cheeks heating up, blazing with the opposite intensity that her _love_ had, fire instead of ice.

She had _kissed_ him.

On the cheek, perhaps, but it still felt intimate, and her heart was thumping erratically, skyrocketing with impudence and cheekiness. The girlish sensations that her tomboyish demeanour had always waved away now surfaced, troubling her on a different level.

As quickly as the emotion came, like the wind separating strands of her raven black hair, lifting ever so slightly from her back, it disappeared, draining her of the former emotion, positive and bubbly, it ebbed away like the waves on a beach, replaced by bitter emptiness, that ironic twist that scarred her very soul. A solemn look flittered onto her face, indifferent as she kept her face neutral, as blank as possible, her true emotions hard to decipher. Her body, light and flighty from standing in his presence for too long, desired to break the ice and seriousness that delved into the very core of Hitsugaya, and was now still, static.

She ignored the blustering look on his face, the intensity of his eye, and looked at him, looked _through_ his brilliant celestial eyes, trying to read his thoughts; tried to overlook the feeling that she was naked before him, his eyes probing her, emanating fierce intensity, which searched for a mystery that remained unsolved.

Her.

"Look, I know you can't hear me, can't see me, but… I'm here, alright? I'm standing _here_, before your eyes. And I don't care if you can't hear me, I don't care if you can't see me, but… I…" Her expression softened, dark eyes glimmering blue, and she had to refrain from her urge to place her arms around him, on his shoulders, locking him on place, and telling him then.

But he sighed, and began to walk away.

A lost cause.

"Don't you _dare!_" Her voice rose, sharp and bitter, harsh and tortured, desperate for this one moment, desperate that he would _see_ her, and only her. "Don't you fucking dare, _Toushirou!_"

Pain seared in her heart, anger flashed in her eyes, hand curled up into small fists, digging deeper and deeper; the physical pain minuscule to her emotional pain. Her body felt frozen, alien, severed from her mind that was trapped in webs of blood and confusion and adolescence. Her body was cold, invisible and tense, and Karin hated herself for feeling so _weak._ Clear vision was blurred by something hot, a plethora of passion, building up to a breakdown that was not yet released. If she was crying, then her tears did not spill onto her face.

She hadn't used his first name in such a long time that it burnt her tongue, swallowed up in ice.

And it elated her heart.

"Stay, dammit!" Karin all but screamed, flinching, hesitating, her voice quieter that she had intended. "Please, don't go…"

_I want to tell you this._

For some reason that the tenth taichou chose not to question, he stopped; a bond tethering him to her, pulling and drawing towards that girl. He didn't see her, but he _sensed_ her, still there, present in a distant corner of his mind. Instead, he half-turned, faltering and fluxing, the equilibrium trembling and threatening to break the balance; he waited not because he wanted to, but because something _compelled_ him.

"_I_…" Her eyebrows furrowed, and her tongue felt dead, decaying in her mouth. And her heart began to beat against her chest, harder and harder with every breath she took.

"_I love you._"

And for her, time froze, caught in a spectrum that was beyond her control, spinning and spinning out of her grasp.

Those words… that she had… confessed…

They felt… wrong.

… terribly, terribly _wrong._

—

Closure was such an abstract thing. It's similar to art, yet completely different.

The key point was control and how it's dealt with, the finest details most important, the structure balanced out by finesse skill.

Control could make a person dominant or submissive, based on how much or how little it remained in their life. It could drive a person to madness, or keep them in the realms of sanity. To feel in control and defining their fate, some would say was better than to know that they were mere puppets in the grand scheme of things, the bigger picture that they refused to see.

But perhaps the depth of control wasn't painted in such fine lines of black and white.

Shades of grey exist, blots like tiny droplets of blood that glimmer like a liberated butterfly, torn wings screaming from the soul.

She was aware, yet she was ignorant, Ulquiorra murmured in her ear, whilst she slept as if she was a caged bird under the illusion of liberation, her wings broken and barely repairable. Ichimaru chained her, Tousen chastised her, and Aizen confused her under the pretence of truth and charm. She toyed with them, just as they played with her, in malignance and delight, fraying the small reminders of humanities with twisted smiles and model ideals and ulterior motives.

Closure.

Until it actually was the goal, the objective finally accomplished like a soccer ball caught in the nets, it's merely wishful thinking stuck on endless possibilities.

It could make something terribly clear…

… and shatter someone's world into smaller fragments that held in bleeding hands.

Closure did not cling to remorse, for it related to justice, blind and fair, and would not cry, regardless of judgement.

When the moment finally came, like a hammer stamping out the doubts and wishes and dreams, there was silent lucidity, clarity that made everything fall apart. And put everything in place, a domino effect.

Closure made people stronger; closure broke people apart. Closure ended up running away but starting another journey.

Kurosaki Karin's unheard words, which rang so clearly in her ears, made something snap, deep inside of her, and removed the doubt; but a seed of it had spread within her, wreaking havoc, that would, sooner or later, implode. It was ticking like a bomb, waiting for the ignition to set it alight, and the impact to finally collide against her last shield.

Closure was something all humans sought, at different times and different moments.

But there was always collateral damage.

—

She was shaking, her skin paler than paper, eyes darker than ebony.

The desire to take those words back became overwhelming. Those words _had not_ meant to be said, and yet she had uttered them within a slip of her tongue, a careless remark of her blind fury, and now, Karin was regretting them.

The strange colour of shame burned on her face, and she stepped back, her hand shakily reaching her mouth. It still felt _unreal._ But the words were out, said face to face, even if he couldn't see her, and she was in front of him. She lurched forward, the realization widening her eyes as she clapped her hand over her mouth.

_Kami-sama._

Karin swallowed the bile in her throat. If she did scram, she was going to be sick. And all the people that surrounded her were going to be _oh-so-pleased_ that vomit was being produced from about of nowhere.

Forcefully, her skinny legs finally worked, moving forwards – _backwards_ – away from the _lie_ that she had fooled herself with to maintain sanity in the cold nights of Las Noches – and she stopped, still aware that _he _was behind her, vigilant eyes searching for something that could not be seen, but was still there.

Her head lowered, locks of hair scattering and sliding down her shoulders, her fingers parting and loosening the grip that she had put on her mouth, hands that barred anything else from being said, just enough so that one word – _one_ – could be said, whispered beneath the trembling breeze, the swaying of raven tresses.

"_Goodbye."_

In the end, that was what she wanted to say. Except her temper and destructive nature had gotten the better of her, manipulating her of her blind emotions, and unscrewing the lid of a concealed container, releasing an epiphany that she did not want to admit. Perhaps she had always known, perhaps not, or maybe the truth was that it was a subconscious thought, written in subtext that Karin had merely failed to read.

And so she ran, because she couldn't stand being in presence any longer.

It would be a long time before she did.

—

The wind was cold against his face, he noted, hands in his pockets, impassive. It caressed his face, tangling his hair, white as snow, and brushed against his chiselled features, his chin, his cheek bone, his nose, his temple, making Hitsugaya Toushirou aware of how cold this sunny day had become.

He waited, lingering for a moment longer, hair ruffled. Then turned away, walking forward and not looking back.

Perhaps some things were best left forgotten behind closed doors.

Chasing invisible ghosts could only last for so long.

—

Matsumoto noticed immediately, aware of the different, the change in _reiatsu_ – _something_ had happened to her little taichou, but the actual pinpointing of the problem was vague. She had no idea of what had set it off, or whether it was the start of something good or bad. All that mattered was that it was a start; a catalyst to break Hitsugaya-taichou out of his shell. Maybe then she could get him drunk.

He didn't want her company, the tangerine-haired fukitaichou realized as she aided Orihime in the kitchen. He wanted to be left alone, to process and compartmentalize his thoughts, sorting everything out into a logical order, or something that mirrored that extent. He liked to think he was in control, and that… that would help him walk forward for a while. But the truth of the matter was that he wasn't; his control had fallen and Hitsugaya was trying to pick up the broken shards that were integrated into his aloof life.

Would time solve anything?

Giving Ishida Orihime a smile, Matsumoto tried to distract her mind, overflowing with thoughts of mothering Hitsugaya. Her eyes closed for a second, the image of her taichou's back imprinted on her eyelids; all she had been doing these five years was watch another person slip away from her network of friends.

Her taichou reminded her of Gin, so badly, sometimes, even though they were people with opposite personalities. But still, she had the same role, regardless of the age gap and era that she lived in. Both wore masks, Gin's a constant smile, Hitsugaya's a constant frown. And, sometimes, Matsumoto knew, that it was only a trick of the light, when her mind was particularly cruel, that she stood beside her taichou, it was her silver-haired childhood friend there instead, standing in her taichou's place, ready to pick her up and rescue her, white frost transforming to grey hail. Then Matsumoto Rangiku would blink again, and the illusion shattered, the familiar presence replaced by a stranger caught up in a web that left her behind.

She was always left behind. Then and now; even though the fukitaichou was stronger after five years – no longer was she a child on the streets of Rukongai, no longer nursing the hurt when Ichimaru betrayed her. She could take care of herself, stronger and faster, graceful and teasing, her emotions guarded with a friendly front. But she was in control of the life she lived, and with a firm grim, she held onto it like when her hand found more _sake_ and friends, singing merry songs under a drunken stupor.

Time may form resolutions, but only actions made differences.

Matsumoto Rangiku may be left behind; but she was far from alone. She had friends, a steady life, one that she forged her own way, her own path, moving forward and marching at her pace; at times helping others, sometimes relaxing, often with a cheerful smile and occasionally with a sombre state of mind, but still, the tenth fukitaichou walked onwards, following no one's footsteps but her own. Though that wasn't to say that on the path she walked, there were not others, imprints left on snow.

"Okay!" Orihime grinned, clapping her hands joyfully. "Let's bake this cake!"

—

In her current state, she didn't want to move, didn't want to breathe, and she didn't want to think or _do_ anything at all. Instead, she wanted to be swallowed up into the sky, resting on clouds that would cocoon her and form an impenetrable shield. There, she would be hurt; she _couldn't_ get hurt. But she'd be lonely, and that would hurt on a different level.

Although she was silent, there was noise all around her; small and soft like bumblebees buzzing from one flower to another, big and loud like the voices of children, merry in their soccer game, cheering their team on, booing and pouting as the opposition gained the ball. Birdsong hummed lightly in her ear, with her eyes firmly shut, she knew that the bird was above her, resting on the brown branches of the evergreen tree. Dirt speckled her clothes, but the girl made no attempt to shift or brush her clothes clean. The grass was gentle, tickling her nose and making her giggle.

Hidden but visible, she feigned sleep in order to not attract attention, and if all of the midgets – children who played to their hearts' content, naïve in their pretty and self-centred world – had listened to their parents, then they would know that even if they saw her, they wouldn't talk to her. Why would they? She was a stranger trying to sleep in a park, under a shaded tree, wearing dark clothing that accentuated her paleness, and making her appear far too skinny; though she had done nothing to disturb the peace.

Maybe the children could tell, the girl wondered, lips curving slightly, that she was lonely, terribly alone in the world, and she was a traitor, or, if not one now, then soon she would be one. Perhaps it was her imagination, but she thought that she caught a few glances in her direction, big doe eyes curious about the quiet spectator.

_Is she a spy?_ One child might think. _Or… an assassin?_

_Or, maybe, maybe, _a shy child murmured, honeyed ivory, _she's just lost her way._

Thick eyelashes flickered open, dark eyes revealed under the shade of tangled locks of hair. Sighing, she sat up, her arms pushing away from the ground to help her stand up and walk on her two feet. Instead, she raked her hand through her hair, and leaned on the tree, deciding to sit instead of lie on the ground, acting as a spectator to the match, never noticing that affectionate smile had slipped on to her face.

She wasn't a spy, wasn't an assassin, though maybe she had lost her way…

But she was lonely, and she was unlucky, and so she hoped that those children would never associate themselves with her. For the moment, she was content to be a shadow, falling away like a leaf did, scattering into the wind like a flock of birds.

Head lowering, the emotions that drained her came back, seeping slowly into her skin, barely bearable. However, those feelings were hollow and superficial, wrapped around her heart, clinging far too tightly.

If the kids associated with her… then her heart would break; because her heart was a liar, it had lied to her; and being the fool, she had placed so many wishes and dreams and fears and tears inside it. And it _lied._

He… _Hitsugaya Toushirou_… had been her pillar of strength; the person that she had clung onto when she abandoned everything else. In her realm of starry sky and abstract reality, he had scared her… but he had given her hope. She had forgotten who he was, his name discarded, but _never_ his face – just by looking at him… she was different. Herself. The girl she used to be, left behind as a deal had been made, and she nearly taken Ulquiorra's hand. She liked that person that she became, even if it was just a dream. Those days, she had woken with a soft smile on her face.

But who fell in love when they're a ten-year-old?

Mistaking infatuation for love, the three ex-_shinigami_ had taken advantage of it, subtly hinting with smiles too wide and words with double meanings that she suspected, but never questioned. And along the way, during those five years, she had placed everything with him, once her hope in Ichigo was lost. Doing so had made her delusional, taking a substitute for someone who could resemble him with her eyes half-closed… was unfair. It was cruel. And part of her wondered if he knew or if he just didn't give a damn so long as they pretended.

She had seen Hitsugaya Toushirou a few times, desperate for answers and frustrated at herself for not knowing what was going on. She had though that he was a normal kid, teasing him and calling him an elementary student for his short stature. Casually, she had asked him if he wanted to play soccer, later reprimanding him for not turning up, and grinning when he did. Because of him, they _won_ they soccer match, even though she had scored the winning goal, it was thanks to him. And then… she discovered that he was a _shinigami_. Then everything changed. Naturally, she teased him for it; nobody could resist ruffling _that_ hair. It didn't matter that he was a taichou – it enhanced his coolness, though. After that event, she caught sight of him from time to time. She thought about him. And suddenly, he was gone; and he hadn't said goodbye. Perhaps, she had been a tad obsessive with him, but only because he was her _link_, her connection to Ichi-nii… and then link had been severed, broken irreparably, commencing a slew of tempers and profanities.

To her… that… _that wasn't love_; not the one that Yuzu had described with glazed eyes, hand on her heart and on the sappy romance novel. It wasn't love _then_, and she wasn't in love with him _now._

She doubted that she had ever been.

Hitsugaya Toushirou had made her feel closer to her brother, and they had become friends, acknowledging each other from the corner of their eyes and the quirk of mouths. But then he pulled the disappearing act… and what remained was a girl who felt angered, betrayed, dismissed. Did their friendship mean _nothing_ to him? Was she unworthy of being told 'goodbye'? Ichigo, good old Ichi-nii, she could understand; they were family, their bond was one of blood, but Hitsugaya? There were friends, she admired him, and looked up to him, while teasing him and bringing the boy back down to earth. He had helped her, and then he'd left, like ice thawing away to form spring.

It was almost like he was abandoning her, ditched, left behind. Again.

But he had no obligation to her in the first place.

Yet, she had overlooked that, and the ire that raged within her; the mood swings, the generally unpleasant behaviour that bubbled inside her dark irises, that boiled in her closed mind… she had immediately assumed it was love, this radically different sensation; it made her remember his eyes, the texture of his hair, how light it had been, and soft on the tips of her fingers. She remembered so many things about him. But, most of all, she remembered the rift, a gap that widened between them, told through the silences and awkward gestures.

She was wrong. It wasn't love; it was a selfish friendship that was breaking apart into tiny shards of fragmented ice. And Hitsugaya could not be the replacement for Ichi-nii. And so he left, his duty summoned.

But she missed, regardless; he had become a constant for her. Even if it was a glimpse from the corner of her eye, the mere sensing of his presence, a volatile soccer match or a quiet conversation watching sunset… they had established a firm friendship between them. Or so she thought.

Apparently, she was easily forgettable, and cast away like the rag dolls that Yuzu like to play with. They were odd dolls that she had knocked aside when Yuzu wasn't in the room. Dressed with button-eyes and stitched up smiles, torn clothes and mission locks of hair, they looked eerie. But the younger sister took care of them, taking the time to mend them, and create a masterpiece, giving them a place to belong. Maybe she herself didn't have button for eyes; maybe her mouth wasn't forced to be a permanent grin, and maybe her own hair was perfect compared to those old dolls; but she had lost her place in the world.

If she was falling, stumbling backwards and reaching for something – _anything_ – to hold onto, watching rocks crumble beneath her and feeling the wind howl in her ears, she had found a ledge. If the world was a cliff that she had jumped off, then someone was holding her, outstretching their hand, fingers brushing and initiating contact, helping her find her footing. Perhaps she hadn't found her sense of belonging, but slowly, gradually, she was becoming more comfortable.

To move forward, she had to let go. And Karin let go of the past, all those childish hopes and dreams, those nightmares and fears. She had said goodbye… to the person that had meant the most to her in that childish innocence, that blissful winter wonderland, devouring her in the realm where anything was possible.

Blue eyes flickered open, one hand found the silver bangle that glistened like the moon, and lifted it so it could catch shafts of light, painting hues of emerald green and jade onto her bone white fingers. Flecks of grey sparkled on her solemn face, shimmering as she twisted the pretty accessory to observe it for a while longer, her gaze no longer lingering on chubby children who tried to chase soccer balls.

A breeze blew through her hair, running its fingers through it, ascending it as easily as it tore away yellowy-green leaves from branches. Lifting her head, she glanced to the side, offering a faint smile to the silent companion, sliding his gift back into her pocket.

"How long have you been there, Ulquiorra?"

—

Having been married for a couple of years to Orihime, Ishida Uryuu _should_ have become accustomed to his wife's eccentric culinary skills, which also included the various mumbles of rather _unusual _choice of foods and utensils, as well as the often… should he say, grotesque or repugnant, though sometimes it could be quite marvellous and delicious, smells that wafted through the window.

The sad case of the matter was that he had not; and was ritually alarmed at the new colour that the food had turned into, never mind about the formation and layout of the food. Whoever said that people can get used to anything had clearly never met his beautiful, and talented, wife.

Though Uryuu harboured no feeling of ill-will towards Matsumoto Rangiku, and had become tolerant of most _shinigami,_ generously allowing two allies to stay in his residence; there lay a foreboding feeling of unease in the pit of his stomach, solely because there was a sneaking suspicion that the two devious minds would combine and cooking would have a new meaning with Ishida Orihime and Matsumoto Rangiku at the core of the revelation.

Why, with their culinary skills, they could most likely create a new creature, alive and breathing, born from the unimaginable, and the offspring of it would no doubt decided to declare world domination, as was the trend with misshapen forms of identity and things that should not exist. Ishida Uryuu attempted to rid himself of the _ridiculous_ thought, but it remained unspoken in his mind, mocking him whenever uncertainly crept into his heart.

Pushing his glasses closer to his face, he sighed, shutting his eyes for a moment, attempting to guess what ingredients they had decided to include in their latest 'delicacy'. Peppermint was one; ginger another, with the lightest touch of rosemary. It certainly was an _interesting_ combination, if a bit dubious. Only a little bit, though.

Perhaps, the auburn women were not insane scientists, who experimented with diabolical forces of darkness, but geniuses, discovering ailments that would cure the world of fatal diseases. Or curse, if they got the wrong ingredient for a tastier result. Then again, the line from mad scientist to genius was often blurred, as was the line of stupidity. However, he himself had erased that line, unstitching that very thought, for his wife was not stupid, she was an adorable and intelligent woman, who had saved him. And along the way, she had taught him to cook, how to fear and admire her prowess in the art of culinary.

And during that time, she had fallen in love with him, just as he had for her, so long ago.

… every now and then, she did make wonderful things, but then she _always_ did; he merely preferred some more than others.

Today did not seem like the day in which food would delight his taste buds, but he was willing to give it a try. _"That's the spirit!"_ His wife would grin, kissing his cheek and cheering him on.

And Hitsugaya was once more on the roof of his house. Huh.

"You wouldn't happen to know, by any chance, what _they're_ cooking, would you?" The taller, but technically younger man called, approaching the tenth taichou.

Hitsugaya gave him an indifferent look, and _possibly_ rolled his eyes. "It might be cake. But then, it might not be. Code words, stuff like that… I can't tell with those two."

"No." Ishida Uryuu gave a soft smile, joining his companion on the roof, remembering Orihime's antics with a smile. "Neither can I."

It was best that they left the meals _completely_ and _utterly_ to the two women's hands. The two men sat in companionable silence, waiting with fear and horror for the meal that was about to come.

"Were they like that before?" Ishida couldn't help but ask, breaking the silence as he recalled that Orihime had let those two stay previously, five years ago.

The reply was almost instantaneous, but Hitsugaya paused, mulling over which words to use, eventually succumbing to the words that had originally come to mind.

"Without a doubt. Trust me when I say that it's better to stay outside unless it's _completely_ necessary."

—

Jade eyes glittered under dark lashes, watching the girl who wore a sad but beautiful smile on her face, distant yet close to him. Closing his eyes, he thought that something had changed, affecting the _reiatsu _that she emitted, changing the aura that she usually had. Usually it was bold and rebellious, sweet but mocking, a reflection of her personality. Now, since he had last seen her, it appeared contrite and quiet, diminished like dusk fading into night, the bright and indeterminable colours swallowed by nebulous black.

Something had upset her, but it was not in his place to care. He should not be 'feeling'… _something, anything…_ towards her.

But she turned, head tilting in his direction, long locks of raven black hair teased by the wind, swirling as leaves landed on her hair. Her eyes glimmered, yet no tears trickled down her cheeks. Yet those two dark orbs that he knew so well, seemed to be lost, confused, and overwhelmingly delicate. It didn't seem correct and her current appearance, unkempt, splattered in mud, wounded internally, disorientated him.

Then she spoke, directing that sad, sad and beautiful smile at him.

"How long have you been there, Ulquiorra?"

Her question startled him, not expecting her to notice him. So, he waited, and searched for the eloquent words to flow from his tongue once his thoughts settled and his face did not mirror surprise, but indifference. But the time he spoke, his lilting baritone voice soothed the air that she breathed. Rin. _Karin._ Her gaze shifted, now directed at the innocent children playing their soccer game. Feigning interest, she watched those children, and she observed Ulquiorra out of the corner of her eye, her smile more a smirk, teasing him. He already knew that it was a ruse, pitifully portrayed to deflect his concerns.

"I thought I told you to butt out."

"How long have you know?" He replied, his face a perfect picture of melancholy. She hadn't asked to be found, and had she uttered his name, he would have been there in an instant. But she hadn't, yet he was there by her side. His only analysis was that he had become more acutely aware of her _reiatsu_, noticing the slightest flux in her aura and became curious to discover the cause, intent on his skills of observation.

Red lips curved in amusement and annoyance. "Of course. Leave it to you to answer a question with another question." Her voice was even, and for that, he was glad, though beleaguered to know why. "Alright, you win." She closed her eyes and lifted one hand, partly to control her hair, partly to say, _hey, I don't really care._ "… for a while."

"You have your answer, 'for a while'." Perhaps he had been spending too much time with her.

She rolled her eyes, dryly laughing. "Very nice, you're a right clown, aren't you? Pun intended." Karin mock-scowled, before that devilish grin snuck upon her face. The Arrancar let the comment slide, this time. Though he did not understand human women, he understood _her, _and that appeared to be enough, a true smile slipping on her face. It wasn't twisted, menacing, spiteful or sad; it only enhanced her beauty.

And he heard a bird's song, chirping sweetly in the background; and felt like she was caged, her wings clipped. Her song that once resounded clearly and brilliantly within the white halls of Las Noches had depleted, weakening as time flew by. Perhaps one day, she would not remember how to fly at all, all her remaining humanity… gone. She could try, picking up the fallen feathers and attempt to flap her wings, but the chains on her feet; her pretty trinket that rested daintily on her wrist, prevented her from soaring the skies and feeling the wind beneath her feathers.

"Are you…" Ulquiorra's voice was too soft, and too quiet to be heard, like her heartbeat that danced to an offbeat tune. He took a breath, closed his eyes, and eventually his mouth said the soundless words. She didn't notice, too enraptured by the children that bustled and ran in delight, exercising their chubby limbs, far too concentrated in their game to spare her a look.

They stood in silence, the teenager sitting under the tree, the Arrancar adjacent. One by one, the leaves let go, fluttering in the wind like an immobile butterfly. Dandelion petals scattered into the breath, white seeds lost to the naked eye across the green park, drifting to their disjointed waltz, a graceful melody that twisted and turned as the air changed its tempo.

Out of the blue, Karin spoke, calm and effortless, her voice quiet but clear. "I wanted to be a butterfly, once upon a time. It sounds silly, doesn't it?" She didn't wait for his reply, knowing already like the back of her hand, Ulquiorra would say nothing, waiting for her to finish what she wanted to say. Unless it was ridiculous – then he would interrupt her and all that remained of the conversation was silence and fractured rays of that that slipped through the tall window in her tower. It helped her, even if it was random; it eased her nerves and made his presence more comfortable. Whether or not her stoic bodyguard was listening, Karin didn't particularly care, despite the face she'd make, furrowing her eyebrows and chucking whatever came to hand first, be it pillows or something else. Luckily, he had caught that pencil, and did not have to gouge his eye out. His ability of regeneration fascinated her, although it also was considered creepy, as it took a while to adjust to it.

Still, Karin looked down, eyes downcast and hidden by her raven black hair, almost shy to admit this to him. "But, yeah. It was something about them, you know? Whether it's just an image of freedom, or just their symmetry, those pretty patterns on their velvet wings… I wanted to be like them. They could fly, and flutter by, dancing to their secret waltz, under a clear sky, or a sky of stars. They're… creatures I coveted because even now, they live in their own world, undisturbed. Even now, they still dazzle, containing a magical quality inside of them. I wanted to be a butterfly, fluttering by."

Emerald green eyes bore into her petite frame, observing her break the stem of a flower, hovering by the petals, scared of touching it, scared of not touching it. Butterflies signified change, a difference. Butterflies represented the souls transferring to Soul Society; butterflies meant death. Butterflies were fragile creatures, once caught; their wings could easily be torn off. But she was a child when her wish came into fruition, and surely, as a child, she did not mean any of those. It was more likely to assume that she had become enchanted with the mystical allure that those winged creatures, delving into an innocent fantasy, those dreams that could never come true.

"You know, Ulquiorra, you should sit down; come and join me." Karin spoke, breaking the silence once more. She didn't look at him, didn't have to.

She knew that he wouldn't.

One by one, she pulled away the petals from a flower, letting them disperse into the wind, scattered as she blew them away. The petals flew, like bubbles in the air, caressed by invisible currents, pulled away further and further from the two companions, and drawn closer to the sun, the sky, than the girl would ever be.

—

"Found you." Grimmjow's husky voice made her lips curve, sinking into a smile that her other companion abhorred. Seconds later, he was there, crushing her body against his, his mouth ravaging hers, his hands exploring, seizing her and forcing her, though not unwillingly, closer towards his muscular frame. Instantly, her arms wrapped around his neck, and his grin was already imprinted on her eyelids by the time she pulled away, his mouth grazing her ashen-pink cheek. He always left her breathless, when he went in for the kill. "Ya done? Or do I have to drag your ass back to Las Noches?"

"I'm done." She gave him a sinister smirk, one which he arrogantly returned. "For now."

Once Ulquiorra ascertained the fact that the two were no longer kissing, he sighed, trying to break the atmosphere, apathetically expecting the silent gestures that passed between the two, one a snort, the other a cheeky grin of suppressed laughter.

"One visit left, unless you want to make another deal with Aizen-sama."

"Nah, it's enough." Rin shook her head, strands of raven mingling with electric blue. "Three's a charm, and I'm not going back. Besides, there really was nothing here."

Three's a charm.

She didn't believe in magic anymore; and she was not returning to Karakura Town.

Time to move on. Nothing could hold her back.

"Liar." Grimmjow murmured; his hand at her hip, his head at her neck, teeth biting. Annoyed, she pushed him away, punching him right in the chest, where his heart should be. Not in front of Ulquiorra.

"Fine. Don't believe me." She scowled; eyes sultry and overshadowed by loose hair. "_Bastard._"

"Bitch." His eyes glinted, amused with her response. She hadn't punched him for a while.

"Jaques." Rin couldn't help but shoot back, lips curling as he growled, making her, in turn, laugh.

"Have you two finished?" The melancholic Arrancar asked, interrupting their banter.

"Well, we are _now._" The ebony-haired girl sighed, raking back her hair and slinging an arm around Grimmjow, pressing a kiss into his cheek. It was unlike her, but Grimmjow didn't particularly mind, considering the insanity that tangoed in their relationship. "Shame."

Jade eyes looked away, ever so slightly, the focus on the dark girl blurring, but her provocative nature appeared sharper than ever. Electric blue eyes narrowed, catching the movement that their female companion did not. A smirk crept onto his face, because Rin was _his_ and Ulquiorra could not have her. And he relished the torture that their public display gave the more powerful Arrancar.

"Whatever, babe. We can continue this _later_." The imperceptible flinch had fucking made his day; his external jaw ajar, mocking a silent cackle to Ulquiorra's ears.

"Damn straight." Karin nodded, stretching her arms and yawning; strangely tired. Almost as an afterthought, she added. "Man, I'm gonna be sixteen, soon."

And sixteen implied so much.

Rebellion and the aftermath, the changes that would inevitably be caused, maturity and responsibly, things that would stay the same, always a part of her; but these were her actions, and dared to defy the people who had left her behind, alone in the dark, in that isolated existence. Butterflies would soar where a sword shone silver, fluttering away to the land of death.

"You have prepared yourself for that confrontation, correct?" Droll, Ulquiorra tonelessly asked, opening the passageway to Las Noches.

"Yep." There was a pause as Rin walked forward, her arms around both Ulquiorra and Grimmjow. "Soul Society aren't gonna know what hit them."


	13. life, absconding

**b u t t e r f l i i e . d r a g o n**

life, absconding

"_So which one is it? What is Hitsugaya Toushirou to you?"_

* * *

Deep down, Hinamori knows. She's known all along, but denied it, because she's afraid of the truth.

It was never a case of 'I saw him first'. More like a case of 'I love him more'.

And the very crux of the matter is the very thing that tears Hinamori Momo apart.

—

She's not as blind as people would like to believe; not as broken as she sometimes feels.

It's just a state of mind that hangs on insecurities, desperate not to shatter her world again.

The first time, Aizen 'died', the second, when he stabbed her in the back, the third, barely conscious, when she realized Hitsugaya was severely injured.

It's a comedic tragedy: she's never been able to separate her head from her heart.

Hinamori hates to lose the things – the people she loves, and so, when she senses them pull away, she clings tighter. The more Shirou-chan pulls away, the tighter she tries to hold on, trying to find stability. Some rational part of her tells her that this is wrong, but the irrational fear eats away at her heart, pushing away rationality, clutching onto her best friend tightly, because she remembers the time when she used to be the centre of his world – remembers the times that he looked after her, after… after Aizen's betrayal, remembers how he helped her heal when she awakened, hardly leaving her side.

And she thinks that maybe, life could be back to what it used to be.

Except… Shirou-chan is soutaichou. And that changes things. Not enough, so it's okay, but… still.

He was there for her; she could at least do the same.

If he needs space, then, so be it.

—

"_Is there something wrong, Shirou-chan?"_

_He's within reaching distance, and yet, she can't close it._

"_No." He shakes his head, troubled, but not deeply so. "… it's nothing."_

_And she lets it go. Because she believes it's best._

_For now._

—

But the space kept growing, and growing, and her world couldn't handle that. It was too much, too different, all at once, leaving her abandoned.

And Momo can see it, ever so clearly: it's him and her and some other person that's not here.

Forgotten…

It's the little things that give it away, like small twitches, the messages flickering in his eyes, the slightest gesture like he's waiting for something, but doesn't know what.

People talk.

Izuru murmurs things, shy and bashful, and Renji says things in his gruff voice, making her laugh; and once again, it's a reminder of who they used to be, and now they're different, walking different paths, despite the ongoing friendship that's not as strong as it used to be.

It's Renji that mentioned something, that girl, and she shook away with a fragile smile, thinking it was nothing.

Later, she realizes that it was the reason why Shirou-chan was acting so distant.

—

"_What's wrong?" And she just wants him to deny the rumours, the nasty thoughts in her head that just won't go away—"Tell me. Please, Shirou-chan."_

_He just has to confirm that the rumours are wrong, that she's worrying for no reason. And then he'll hold her hand and kiss her forehead and tell her, tenderness in his eyes, that it'll all be okay. That they're going to get through this, visit Baa-chan together, that they'll be okay._

"_There's __**nothing**__ wrong."_

_But she hears the lack of conviction in his voice, and he doesn't hold her hand and—everything is wrong. How he looks away instead of focusing on her, how he gives a watery smile that does nothing to reassure her and… and the distance… is growing, growing, growing… her thoughts scattering and shrieking, shrieking, shrieking…_

"_But there is!" She insists, trying to block out her roaring thoughts, that try to drag her down; and he looks startled like—"There is, Shirou-chan! And you… you…" _

_There's a rift between them, symbiotic with her heart; and so Hinamori does what she knows best, holds onto her anchor, because her thoughts are whispering things, sneering taunts that start to sound true._

_He doesn't need her._

_He doesn't want to be anywhere near her._

_He doesn't love her. _

"_I look at you… and…" And she feels hollow, made of glass before it breaks. "… and sometimes it's like you're not there. Like, you're far away, and there's no… there's no return. You're somewhere far, far away." He's twisting and turning away, trying to get away from her because he… he can't handle her anymore. And Momo needs his hope, needs him to believe in her. "And, it's like you can't see me… because, I'm not there. Not where…"_

… _not where he wants to be._

… _not the person he want her to be._

_And finally, he's read her mind. He holds her hand, even if he doesn't kiss her forehead. His touch means he cares, he still cares about her, he still loves her. And that means more to her than anything._

_Because she—_

_She loves him… but she doesn't know in what way._

"_I'm sorry. It's just… work." And she can feel his sincerity, feel his frustration, and she knows that this time, it's not a lie. "I still haven't managed to get used to it."_

"_Oh." And it clicks. It makes sense. Her thoughts can get irrational, at the worst of times. "Work. Yes, of course. I understand. It's just… I thought there was someone else." Someone other than her._

_And he frowns, and for a second, she wonders if she's said something dreadfully wrong._

"_Matsumoto isn't here anymore. Relief is hard to come by, so I… I spend it with you." Matsumoto Rangiku, the cheerleader of Tenth Division, dead. She could hardly believe it the first time she heard it. And she wants to say something, but his dark laugh prevents that from happening. "Strange, I was always complaining about her, and yet… she was exactly what I needed."_

_This was the moment: her turn to repay the favour._

_To let him know, that he was not alone._

"_You have me."_

_And he smiles, beautiful._

"_I have you."_

_And it's almost enough to make her believe in the lie that she fooled herself with earlier._

—

He spent more time with her after that, his smiles more natural, yet somehow, more poignant.

But… Hinamori Momo was happy. Because it was him and her, and she knew that he cared about her.

And then, one day, he comes in, staring at an orange, deep in thought. It's just an orange, but it means more than it should.

Then she knows: he's thinking about _her._

That girl who she doesn't know.

—

_It changes with a watermelon. A simple watermelon that changes everything. _

_She thought that he would like it._

_And then, as she approaches the house, she senses a reiatsu that she doesn't recognise. Except, it's familiar, traces of it, in small amounts. She doesn't know why._

_Maybe it's nothing._

_Opening the door, she smiles at him, watching him stir, still drowsy._

"_Hey. I found it and thought you might want some."_

"_Thanks." There's a question in his eyes, but maybe… maybe it's just adjustment from the dream that he might have had._

"_Rough night?" Tilting her head, she wonders if he contracted a fever. He looks tired. He needs to sleep._

"_Must have been. Yeah."_

_Blinking wearily, he reaches for a packet of mints. Breath mints. Swallows one, and when he gulps, he seems so relieved, and so stress-free._

_And he smiles at her, acting like the previous conversation hadn't happened._

"_Momo, did you…?"_

"_Yeah. I thought you might like it." It's disconcerting, but somehow, she just can't ask him about those mysterious mints._

"_Thank you." _

_Then she wonders who that girl was. Because she can sense her reiatsu all over the place._

—

It's Izuru who takes her to that girl, caving at her insistence, on word of honour that she won't disturb the peace.

With a nod, she agrees. Promises it so carelessly that later she wonders if she really knew what she was saying.

It's no secret.

But she's been blind because she closed her ears; shut her eyes, living in the fantasy world that breaks her from within.

"_Who is she?"_ Quietly, Momo asks, watching them silently.

Sees them laugh, see them talk, easy banter flowing between them. And she notices… that he looks at her differently. Looks at her the same way that he used to look at _her. _And that girl is the same. She looks at him at the same way, whenever she's certain that she knows he's not looking.

They bounce off each other, and it's the closest thing to happiness in Shirou-chan that Hinamori has seen in a long time.

And all she can feel is the cold wind, the darkness hissing fatal thoughts, the rift growing once more.

"_She's Kurosaki Karin."_

All she wonders is why she can't be the one who is looked at like that, why she is the one who is being left behind.

… and she's not listening to a word that Kira Izuru is saying.

—

_Her heart is like the weather. There are rain clouds, there are storms; there are clear days, there is sunshine. Her existence mirrors a temperamental climate, when it reflects the shade of her heart – and now there is only jealous streaked in her heart, lightning bolts and thunder storms, amid a torrid sky. _

_And Momo knows._

_She has to __**end**__ this… this __**thing**__ between them – Shirou-chan and that girl, Kurosaki Karin._

_Just for a little while._

_That's the reason why she's here today, making her way towards her._

"_Ano, Kurosaki-san." She begins, catching the scowling girl's attention. "Can I talk to you for a second?"_

_The girl glances at the nearby guards, half-hiding a smirk as she receives a nod in return._

"_Okay. Fine. What do you want with me?"_

"_My name is Hinamori Momo." She introduces herself, feeling awkward that the girl might have to refer to her with nothing but 'you'._

_And at that, Kurosaki's face darkens, and her smile twists, like a wolf about to gobble up its prey. "… oh." And there is amusement laced in her voice. "I see. This is going to be fun." Approaching her more, Momo feels a spike of malevolence. _

_Maybe she shouldn't be doing this. But—this is for Shirou-chan. And her. It's for the best._

"_So what does Hinamori-sama ask of me?" Mockery hastens the reply._

"_I was… well… I'm… actually…" Mockery makes the reply hesitate._

"_Spit it out." Lazily, she drawls, almost uninterested with her anymore._

"_Could you leave Shirou-chan alone? For a while… at least. Please." She bursts out, cheek flushed. Again, she thinks: this is for the best._

_Then she glances at Kurosaki's face, and she wonders if she made a mistake. Because murder is written all over it. Only for a second though, but the second lasts long enough._

"_Why?"_

"_What?" The questioning response takes her off her guard._

"_Why should I?" Circling her, Kurosaki arches her eyebrow, haughty. "You'd better have a good reason for it. And besides, it's really not my fault who Hitsugaya-san decides to spend his time __**with**__." And her smile grins suggestively, and in that instant, Hinamori realizes that Kurosaki recognized her from before. "And what he does during… that time."_

_No!_

_Kurosaki-san is not suggesting… that!_

"_Shirou-chan is not that person." Shaking her head, Hinamori refuses to believe it. "I know it! I just know it!"_

_Lifting an eyebrow, she looks mildly amused. "Really. Then I guess that hickey didn't happen. I don't think I'm going to show you where he put it. Your imagination can probably guess… eventually. It's one of many." And her long hair gives nothing away, as Kurosaki scratches the back of her neck. "It's all up to you."_

_A pause._

_Then, with frosty politeness. "Are you going to answer my question? Why do you think that I should leave Hitsugaya-san alone?"_

"_Because… I love him. I want… I want to be there for him." I want to keep him far away from you._

"_Sweet." Bored, Kurosaki rolls her eyes, sardonic with her response. "That's nice. Really, that's __**lovely.**__ Congratulations. But just because you love him, does that mean deserve him? Does that mean you love him in the right way? Does that mean that your love is merely control? Do you love him in the way of a best friend or that… of true love." And the mockery cannot dissuade the bitter tone in Kurosaki's voice. "Cause, I've heard that you also loved Aizen. Now, how do you not know that your 'one true love' isn't him? Although, I wouldn't blame you if he wasn't: since he's dead, and really, he wasn't that much of a gentleman. I have no idea why people keep putting him on a pedestal."_

"_Don't you dare talk about Aizen like that!" Oh, Momo knows. Knows that Aizen is dead, knows that he's a villain. But, as fukitaichou of Fifth Division, she has to preserve his memory. The memory of him being kind and caring, no matter if that whole time, it was just a lie._

"_Why do you love Hitsugaya-san?" Voice like silk, it's like a cat has cornered a mouse, ready to pounce, ready to play. Or maybe, that was Kurosaki's plan all along. "Is it really… because you feel guilty about ignoring him for so long, taking him for granted, and now I'm here, albeit unwillingly, I'm here, and things… developed more than you and him."_

"…"

"_Who are you really jealous of? And what does Hitsugaya Toushirou mean to you?" Tilting her head, her eyes narrow, voice patient and condescending. Hinamori can feel the walls closing in on her. "Which one is it?"_

_And Momo's thoughts cluster around those words, increasing in volume with each heartbeat._

_Shirou-chan is…_

_Because she knows. No she doesn't. Yes she does. No. Yes. No. Yes. All of them. None of them. The truth is known to her and her alone, masqueraded in her sea of lies._

_Shirou-chan is…_

"_So which one is it?" Kurosaki asks once more, calm and composed, like that of a scientist ripping a butterfly's wings._

_Shirou-chan… is…_

"_I—" And Momo doesn't know. And if she does, she's only denying it because she's done it so well all her life._

_But the truth is—_

"_Don't answer the question if you don't know. But sort your priorities out." And Momo sees her smile, secretly counting the seconds, waiting for the explosion. "See, I know what I feel. But you? This is the first time I've met you, so how am I to know?" And she knows: that this is all a game, waiting to see how long it takes for the other to break. And Kurosaki leans in, words murmuring softly spoken poison, tightening the noose around her head. "So who is this about?"_

_This has to stop._

"_You?"_

_The mind games have to stop._

"_Him?"_

_And this girl has to shut up before—_

"_Or—"_

_It's a reaction that Hinamori didn't know she had in her. All she knew was that she didn't want to hear this __**violation **__of the mind any more, and her body complying, seeking to silence her. And she tries to slap her, because that's the only thing that's possible at that moment. The only rational thing._

_In that second, everything changes. And the pleasant mannerisms are gone, cold ire glinting in Kurosaki's blank stare._

_She's an annoyance now, and now she's going to be ruthless._

_And still, Kurosaki won't let go, tightening so hard that her nails sink into Hinamori's skin._

"_Ah-ah-ah. That wasn't very nice. Me? I've been nice; I've answered all your questions. So really, I don't deserve to be slapped. You, however," Kurosaki pauses, and to some extent, Hinamori agrees with her. She had answered her questions, but distracted her with questions of her own, taking control of the situation. "… you have been less than nice. So what's it gonna be? Are you going to sort things out, or you going to hurt people even more?"_

_**Stop hurting him. Stop making him suffer because of you.**_

_Hinamori's thought change into Kurosaki's voice, like nails on a chalkboard, desperate to be heard._

_And Kurosaki lets go, taking advantage of her being taken off-guard, to slap her back._

_That girl is dangerous, and it's a natural instinct that makes Hinamori want to recoil. Because that girl pushes people away, more than she attracts them. And yet, she's…_

_She's…_

"_Me? I've been called selfish, I've been called a bitch, and you know what? I do what I do to survive. But, you? You're the real selfish bitch."_

_And Karin's controlled fury chokes Hinamori. And she smiles, because she's just that cold-hearted. There's no pleasure in what she does, and part of Hinamori realizes that this is just a stunt to drive people away._

"_And you deserved that."_

"_Kurosaki?" _

… _he's here. Shirou-chan is here. Asking about… Kurosaki._

_Not her._

_And the change that takes place is evident, that girl making light of the situation. "Hey, I'm keeping that promise. I'm just having a little bit of fun." There are too many questions, too many unheard answers that are evident in the subtext. Kurosaki is talking, and all she sees is… Shirou-chan._

_Shirou-chan's the same… seeing nobody but Kurosaki, trapped in their own world._

_It's like she's invisible. _

_When they smile at each other, the sickening realization is: they don't even remember the fact that she's there any more._

_And… it's too much. It's not right and – it is right – and her mind is filling up with unwanted thoughts._

_She just… she just has to get out of there, because Hinamori Momo just can't handle this._

—

There were signs, Hinamori Momo won't deny that. There were signs everywhere.

Because she was scared to accept it; doing so meant that she admitted that she wasn't the centre of Shirou-chan's world.

So she avoided him, because-because-because he isn't her Shirou-chan any more.

And during that time, she realized the similarities and differences from her and Kurosaki.

Realized that she hadn't denied her affection, but she hadn't hidden from it either.

And maybe, that was when she realized, what Hitsugaya Toushirou meant to her.

—

_She visits her once, in the prison._

_Notices the hopeful expression that is practically nonexistent; changed for a distasteful leer, wondering what kind of havoc she is going to do next._

"_Hinamori-san. How nice to see you again." Her smile is fake, but oh, it gets right underneath her skin. "I hope you enjoyed our… display."_

_She ignores this, trying not to succumb to the riling up of the younger girl._

"_Kurosaki-san."_

"_Oh?" Interested, Kurosaki leans forward, just out of reach behind black bars. "Have you come to a decision? Have you decided?"_

_Friend. Lover. Guilty pleasure. A variety of things. The list could go on and on._

"_So which one is it?" Kurosaki muses, mulling over the answer, glancing at her for a reaction. "What does Hitsugaya Toushirou mean to you?"_

_She takes a deep breath, knowing that this is the truth._

"_He's my friend. And I love him, because he's my friend."_

"_Huh." Kurosaki shrugs, uncaring once more. "Good for you."_

_It must be the glow of dusk, because her cheeks look a little flushed._

—

One day, he disappears. Relaxation, some murmured. He could do with a vacation; he looks tired all the time. The theories differed, some mentioning the sister of Kurosaki Ichigo, others just about him running away since the pressure was too much to handle.

And then, Yamada Hanatarou finds her, taking her to where the soutaichou really is. Telling her about his addiction to the breath mints, pills made by Kurotsuchi Mayuri, ordered by the soutaichou predecessor. That it would only erase things irrelevant to being a soutaichou, Kurosaki Karin being one of them. But the pills were never meant to be addictive, only meant to keep his head focused on his true duties.

As she stares through the window, it vaporizes. Except it's not fog. Not his breath. It's ice, crystallizing before her very eyes.

She doesn't tell Karin: this is her secret.

So she talks to him, murmurs words to Shirou-chan, stroking his soft hair, in hope that he recognises that he's not alone, he can get through this. Like he did for her, so long ago.

Because they're friends, and their chance of ever being something is over.

—

And he wakes up.

Aquamarine eyes blink rapidly, hazily, disoriented, unable to focus.

She's here. It's okay. She's here.

All he says, over and over again is:

"_Karin."_


	14. the puppets

**b u t t e r f l i i e . d r a g o n**

the puppets

"_I trust, Kurosaki Karin; that you are not foolish enough to let anyone get in your way, or act impulsively on your emotions."_

* * *

**One year ago.**

May 6th.

It was coming, fast approaching like a hurricane colliding into houses made of sticks and straws. It would tear everything part, its intent only to wreak havoc and throw a wrench in the opposition's plans.

Just like Inoue Orihime, Kurosaki Karin was a hurricane, temporarily deigned to be an obstacle and bar any progress for the enemy.

Except Kurosaki Karin was no ordinary hurricane, brewing up a storm that would only last for a second, but its aftermath would be devastating as only silence remained, shocking the people as reality crumbled around them, in blood, tears and death. No. She wasn't quite like that. The damage she would cause, willingly, would not be quite as simple as Inoue Orihime's. It would be much harder for her to rebuild the bonds that she had broken, that she had left behind that one day.

All because she didn't believe in them any longer; cast aside when the curtains closed, watching the world with empty eyes and hollow heart, unable to revert to the person that she used to be, broken forever.

There would be no fairytale ending for her. No tower to rescue her from, no lonely princess, no knight in shining armour.

For she was only a doll, only a toy, only a pawn in the grand scheme of things that meant nothing, eventually discarded because he was _bored_ with playing with her.

Darkness would hide her, light would drown her, and she, beautifully broken, as she waltzed in the manner of a marionette, would die.

Alone, isolated, and cursed forever.

Ichimaru Gin grinned, his smile wider than ever because he just couldn't stop.

Five years was a long time, and he couldn't _wait_ for the inevitable destruction. To see that smirking, sarcastic girl shatter in pretty porcelain pieces, bleeding red stains on the floor. Oh, it was fun to watch her react and hear her sardonic remarks, watch her stiffen and reply with anger, sadness, unable to mask her true emotions completely. She'd adapted, constantly lying, toying, hiding her emotions well, but not well enough.

And yet, beneath the shadows of the moon, there lay a desire to watch her break, never to recover from this treacherous betrayal.

Because… Kurosaki Karin was his game, his pawn, his to make or break. And so she would; breaking superbly as a forgotten plaything left to collect dust.

Sweet sixteen. His gift to her.

May 6th.

Finally, it had arrived.

—

People said that revenge was sweet. People said that revenge was wrong. People said that revenge was justice.

But then, people said a lot of things: truth and lies and the shades of grey that contained a little of both.

Aizen murmured sweet sounding words, pretty to hear, but made of smoke; revealing nothing.

Ichimaru taunted with a smile, seeking truths and lies that would tear someone's heart asunder, crawling into their skin with a mere syllable.

Tousen limited his words, preferring to rely on silence and misleading people by omission.

Grimmjow threatened, cursed, and lied, brash forever, making his self feel like the king of the world.

Ulquiorra said words with such indifference that it didn't matter what he said, but _how_ he said it, tearing people's hearts into shreds.

Karin merely acted on impulse, reining some words in, letting other words go; her heart guiding her when her mind did not.

The mistakes they made would force them to recover, changing their plan in an instance.

But today… today was _special._

And nothing could go wrong.

It was her birthday and—

The invasion of Soul Society.

—

Once upon a time, she had believed.

She had believed in some sort of bittersweet fairytale ending, in some sort of happily ever after, one where she was rescued by Ichi-nii and his friends

She had.

She _had._

But a year passed. Eleven. Another year passed. Twelve. Another year. Thirteen. And another. Fourteen. And another. Fifteen. This was the fifth year, going onto its sixth. And now she was sixteen.

How much longer was she going to stay until she gave up hope?

There was nothing. No invasion. No rise. No unprecedented attack to reclaim Kurosaki Ichigo's little sister.

It was as if she didn't matter. As if she wasn't important. As if she was stolen away like a fading photograph that burnt slowly in the dark, vanishing, and no one dared to go look for her. The lonely silence spoke volumes of Ichigo's abandonment: his secrets were best remained as secrets, she would be better off not involved. Even if that meant self-deluding herself into something that she had assumed to be love, even if that meant choosing her family's safety over her own, even if that meant that she was dealt a different hand of fate to find trails of dead ends; the conclusion that she came to inferred that it was better off if she was cast aside, shrugged away, left on the need-to-know basis, the information required for full comprehension of the situation always far too late.

So she waited, relying on their family bonds that tethered them together.

He'd find her. He'd rescue her. He would.

It might take a while, but she could bide her time, knowing that he would figure it out. He'd realize that Aizen had taken her, and instantly—_immediately_, he would find her.

He would come. He'd take her away.

Naivety lasted as long as the dreamer wanted to avoid reality crashing upon them; or until they couldn't handle clinging onto false dreams.

Sooner or later, the cracks in the façade would create a rift, widening at every second that passed, paranoia sinking in like a murder of crows settling on a tree, all its foliage stripped bare; chiaroscuro malevolently enhancing the atmosphere of malignance.

All it took was five steps, meticulously planned out. Five steps of grief, five steps of hatred, five steps that would make and break the doll who decided to go in over her head because she didn't know what she was up against. Like a moth to a flame, she would burn, leaving charred remains to flutter in the breeze. Denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance: each that would destroy and reform her resolve.

And Ulquiorra was there, always by her side, always at arms reach… but there, murmuring words that would build or break her, words that she chose to take to heart or ignore.

She fought, she fawned, she kissed, she killed: if she was condemned, then she'd give them a damn good reason to earn it.

For Kurosaki Karin was weary of waiting for something that would never happen.

Part of her died that day, when she accepted Ulquiorra's ultimatum. To cope and survive in Las Noches meant that she had to change who she was, be it body, mind or personality. She wore that twisted smile on her face as easily as kicking a soccer ball. Her hair grew long; her body became sinuous, more graceful than the ten-year-old version of her. Dark blue eyes, once a perfect reflection of the midnight sky burned black as the night, tainted in this land of demons. Arms, legs, limbs grew, and the years that passed slowly transformed her into a resentful creature that mocked and played, eager for a game, eager for a morbid death.

Hueco Mundo fucked her up. And Kurosaki Ichigo was to blame.

Oh, she tried not to fault him at first; sisterly admirance blinding her. But the seconds became minutes, hours, days, weeks, months, years… years went by and still there was nothing. No sign of a rescue. Hope that she contained within her began to decay with blood, sweat and tears drying slowly on the ground, smearing her sneakers, the stench of death always present. She began to distance herself from that optimism, barely associating with him, trying to deprive him of her thoughts, her outbursts, her dreams, lest they were filled with ire that scorned stars. His name was no longer used, distorted through the pain of lost innocence and seething hatred, tangled up in connotations of fruity metaphors. It was better that way, severing _him,_ her family, away from her.

And the sky that reminded her of the boy of ice no longer shed light, covered in an eternity of prison bars and moonbeams.

Only darkness ruled, eluded by secrets.

Ichi-nii was not going to save her, like the hero that she thought he was.

Her hope died when silence was the only thing emitted from her foul mouth and her muted eyes. Eyes of clay cracked and crumbled in the tragic game that she wholeheartedly threw herself into for the pursuit of the truth, blurring in with the desire of revenge festering inside her.

But even the silence didn't last.

Ferocity flickered on her face, conjoined with resentment, disappointment and a void of emptiness. One provocative word from Grimmjow, and her defences broke, spilling blood. Using Grimmjow as a vice, she lived, coming undone until everything overthrew here, and she was consumed by silence once more.

From then on, she was irrevocably different, subtly twisted for more macabre matters and gruesome thoughts. A cold glint grew in her eyes. Lips twisted, as if she held a secret joke that only she knew. Her face became stoic, unless she was riled up by matters that hit close to home, otherwise she feigned emotions to amuse herself, and others, if the situation allowed it. Working hard at _kidou_, on swordplay, her movement became agile and reflexive; with renewed vigour, concentrated from the darkness of her heart, with the sole intention of getting revenge on Kurosaki Ichigo, as Aizen Sousuke intended all along.

The names of Karin's past became irrelevant and forgotten, as she followed orders. Though she ruined, there was still potential.

There was more to build, more to break; tumbling with a domino effect with Kurosaki Ichigo along with her.

Mechanically, she did as she was asked, a coy smile tugging at the corner of her lips. A good girl, some might say. Yet Ulquiorra saw rag doll bend the rules, twist them, wrapping them up in her little finger… like she did with Grimmjow, pulling him along and tempting him. The Sexta Espada might not see it, but the Cuarta Espada certainly did; seeing the hurt that she tried so hard to conceal.

Her cold front quelled beneath her usually jovial exterior: meant to unnerve the Arrancars, showing that she trusted no one. Though she abided with the Arrancars with friendly terms, no one minded that much if she murdered a few Arrancars… everyone was doing it.

Her faith in others was gone; and her inability to believe isolated her from the rest of the people she knew.

So Karin played a game, acting like the spoilt princess, dancing in a masquerade, dressed in ribbons and fine clothes, full of joy; when in reality she word chains and tattered material, their broken prisoner, completely miserable.

She only smiled and drew them closer, waiting for the day when everything would change.

And finally, it was here.

—

Dawn bled into the corner of her flickering eyes.

Ulquiorra was watching her, Karin was acutely aware of this. It might have helped that was technically clinging onto him, thanks to her sleeping habits that made her toss and turn in the night… and she was listening to his heart that was never there, which increased her consciousness around him.

Once her disorientation evaporated, Karin inclined her head towards Ulquiorra, lips quirked into an odd smile.

"I can't believe it, I can finally—" Her voice broke off, a mixture of anticipation and excitement.

"Karin." Deep emerald green eyes stared at her, seeking for a glimpse at her true emotions. Though her guard was usually lowered against him, still a barrier remained.

Ulquiorra Schiffer, Arrancar of Aizen Sousuke, had no emotions, yet curiosity lingered whenever the psychotic girl was around, her presence enough to make him a lapse in his judgement – would he truly be able to see this girl fall? But it was more than that. More than just a lapse of judgement, more than just curiosity, it was—

No.

It was better not to continue that tangent of thought.

The dark haired girl stretched her arms, twining them around his neck, teasing him. Face blank, the Espada observed her with cool indifference as Karin pushed the boundaries between them, experimental, as she remained somewhat in a daze as he struggled to maintain apathy. He was a creature made of restraint and Kurosaki Karin, however attached she had become to him, would never, ever break him.

Lucid blue eyes twinkled, catlike and cold, mocking childish innocence. Moving back and forth, Karin's eyes controlled her hands, daring to touch his icy skin. Drawing even closer to Ulquiorra, her irises met his, glittering in malicious intent. Their noses almost touched, barely apart; their breath mingling. Then her hands stopped, resting at the spot where the curve of his cheek and his jawbone met.

And while her gaze focused on him, and only him, it felt like time stood still.

Physically, she was so close, heat spreading onto his cold skin like sunlight spreading in the darkness; but mentally, she was far apart, caught in a fatal game.

"Ne, Ulquiorra," Karin murmured, frozen with savage delight and tarnished amusement. "Will you miss while I'm gone?"

Silence slinked through the distance between them; speaking louder than words.

"Will you think about me… if I don't come back?"

Dark lashes lowered, seeing lips that mocked pretty, enchanting, enticing promises that would never come true.

"And will you smile when I return?"

But still, Ulquiorra Schiffer did not reply.

Raven locks spilled into his chest, cascading from her shoulders as Karin shifted to dip her head, and almost, _almost_ meet—

"Ne, Ulquiorra," Karin continued, musing. "If I asked you to kiss me, would you do it?"

But the answer wouldn't come; eternity in agony.

Karin's lips curved into a smile, wistfully beautiful. "… no. No, you wouldn't."

And she sank back into the cool embrace of listening to something that was never there, black locks tumbling into a messy arrangement, splayed all around them. One thick curl tangled around his tapered fingers, before slipping away.

A quiet tranquillity took hold of them then, soothing everything that went unsaid like a blanket that would protect from the future, everything that went beyond their shared bed.

Once more, Karin broke it with the sound of her voice, her body still for the moment, savouring the sensation of peace. "It's a shame that you're not coming with me – us." She was quick to correct her mistake; eyes softening. "But… maybe it's for the best. Who knows? At least Grimmjow is going. And Wonderwice." Pausing, she remembered why she was doing this, felt the flare of anger inside her – the hurt, the misery. In a quiet tone, she added. "At least they're with me."

She was… _scared._ Even if she had nothing else to lose, she was still scared of the confrontation: if she would be recognised or not; if she could deal with her tumultuous emotions that affected her so much. And if—

If _he_ was there – the person that she had sworn to give up on, the person who gave her heartache, though she murmured his name in her sleep, unaware that she still cared for the person that was never there.

Karin must have sensed his discomfort, as hopeless as she was at being conscious of _reiatsu_, for she spoke once more, subduing the silent discomposure that raged underneath. "It'll be okay, I swear, it'll be okay."

For him, those words were in vain. For her, she didn't know who she trying to reassure.

Inside him, a fear grew, gripping Ulquiorra with terror, though he tried to discard it, horrified as the compelled words came out of his mouth…

"Happy Birthday, Karin."

She's sixteen. Sweet sixteen; and she's old enough to know what she's doing.

And the girl, princess-doll, puppet-prisoner breathed, and smiled, synonymous with loneliness.

"Thank you."

If only the moment could have lasted longer.

—

Just before the dawn, a growing sensation crept into his skin, making him forget to breathe until his compulsion was fulfilled.

Just one more drink. Just one more sip. One more pill.

And the trouble would fade from his mind; the black-haired ghost would disappear.

Splashing water into his face, Hitsugaya Toushirou wondered: what was he still doing here in Karakura Town?

—

"Found ya." A familiar guttural voice rumbled in Karin's ears as she _shunpo'_d across the white hallways of Las Noches.

Grimmjow's arm slung over her shoulder, pulling her back as his mouth met hers hungrily. And as always, a twisted grin slid on his face as she drew back, tongue licking the remnants of him on her lips.

Their relationship was one of taking, taking and never giving; part of that destruction made her feel elated.

"You ready?" Grimmjow Jeagerjaques' smirk widened, anticipating the bloodshed.

"Absolutely." Eagerly replying with malicious intent, Karin placed her 'Arrancar mask' on her face, reminiscent of a mask of that came from a masquerade. Ulquiorra had deemed it a necessity, and Karin had reluctantly agreed, absent-mindedly awaiting the opportunity to discard it. "Let's do this."

And with that, another kiss was stolen, before the skirmish of Soul Society began; the silent scream already howling in the air.

—

Though it was somewhat painful, there was a slight smile adorned on Hitsugaya Toushirou's face. His looked more relaxed, and that was thanks to Orihime's offbeat nature of breaking the ice, lightening the burden weighed on his shoulders.

Matsumoto joined him, her grey blue eyes warm and gracious, directed at the married couple, Ishida Uryuu and Orihime. "Thank you so much for letting us stay with you."

"You're welcome, please, come by any time." The bubbly auburn-haired woman smiled brightly, leaning into her husband. "Anytime you want to cook with me to save the world is fine."

"… together you'll be unstoppable." The tall and lanky Quincy muttered, a tad awkward on the subject of the two women's skills in the kitchen.

"And we will spare no one." Unanimously, the two women cheered, posing like superheroes ever so slightly.

Hitsugaya Toushirou only sighed, a lack of energy preventing him from attempting to sway his fukitaichou from that direction in life; though since the matter did not concern any paperwork, then hypothetically, it should be alright with him. Unless the entire matter was a devious plot in order to _avoid_ such work related things; yet it was better not to immediately follow these assumptions, the thought path of the two tangerine-haired women very viable to veer off at any given moment.

There was a hesitant pause.

"… thank you." The tenth taichou inclined his head, cerulean eyes gazing at them – a picture perfect couple, one last time before facing the gate that would lead them to Soul Society. "I hope to see you soon."

"Let's hope so." Ishida Uryuu nodded, his arm comfortably placed around Orihime's shoulders.

They were the last thing that the two _shinigami_ saw in the realm of the living.

—

The plan was to spread out and wait, taking _shinigami_ down unexpectedly. Or that was how Hikari took it, as she crouched on the roof of a building. It _might _have been just destroying everything in a rampant rampage until the _shinigami_ came and fought them, or it might have been to seek them out and challenge them to a battle. It was more likely to assume that Grimmjow had taken both choices. And as for the rest of the Arrancar who joined them, to be honest, who cared? The strong survived, the weak perished. That was the way of life in Hueco Mundo; and Hikari was not going to bother learning who they were just for the sake of waiting a few seconds to discover that they were slaughtered by the opposition. It seemed like a waste of time, in her opinion, to develop attachment for the damned.

It was a good plan. Strong. Smart.

But she was getting bored, and if she was, then someone was definitely already bored.

Black eyes flashed under the remnants of her Hollow mask, piqued as she noticed _reiatsu_ flare, magnifying under the delicious intent of revenge.

_Grimmjow_.

He had found an opponent so easily; and it wasn't just _one._

What were the chances of one of them being the _orange strawberry_?

Leering, she closed her eyes, remembering a far-off memory.

If that was the case, then by all means, Grimmjow had to step down and let her take his place.

After all, he _promised._ And promises meant everything in the world of softly spoken lies.

—

"Arrancars have been spotted! Arrancars have been spotted!" The Hell Butterflies murmured, against the ringing of the klaxon.

"That can't be good." Kyouraku Shunsui murmured, tipping his hat closer to his face, shielding the sun from his eyes. "Why would Aizen send his Arrancar to Soul Society after…"

"Whatever the reason, taichou," Ise Nanao replied, pushing her glasses up her nose. "It won't be good."

But the question was valid. Why indeed, after so long, with no word, having sealed off Hueco Mundo, would Aizen Sousuke send his soldiers out on a coup d'état, after reaching some sort of impasse?

Did the date matter? Or was this simply coincidence alone?

"Apparently, Zaraki Kenpachi is already making his way toward them." The firm fukitaichou informed him, almost certain that he wouldn't get the hint, or if he did, then he would completely ignore it. "His fukitaichou and a group of his Division are with him."

"Is he now?" Lazily, the eighth taichou crooned, wondering if he could appeal to his sweet, pragmatic fukitaichou's good side. "Well, then, rest assured, Nanao-chan, that he has it covered."

"But—"

"Trust in him, Nanao-chan. And if that isn't enough, I'll treat you to _sake_ and together, we can dance in a shroud of cherry blossoms."

Taking a deep and calming breath, Ise Nanao once again refrained from succumbing to her temper and responding to the odd request.

She would find a way to make him move.

She always did.

—

"_Ohayo!_"

She drew his attention with a cheerful call, wind blowing in her jet black hair, matching the colour of glittering eyes. Tilting her head at an irregular angle, one that might break her neck if she kept it longer than a minute, she surveyed him, noticing how little he had changed. "You're the orange strawberry, aren't you? Mind if I call you orange-berry?"

"Sorry. You got the wrong person. I'm Kurosaki Ichigo," Blasé, the _shinigami_ corrected her, or so he thought. It was odd, that girl. Was she a _shinigami_, since she was dressed in black? Or was she an Arrancar, a wolf in sheep's clothing? Or was she a Vaizard, as unlikely as that was? Either way, that remnant of a Hollow mask looked misplaced, like the situation was actually a masquerade, meant for dancing instead of fighting.

"Nope, I'm right." She cackled, widening her grin. "You're the strawberry. Strawberry head. Orange strawberry. Orange-berry. I could go on, but the matter remains the same: _you're_ the person _I've_ been looking for." It was the way that the masked girl said that, a combination of jubilation and embitterment that made Ichigo wary of her. Her black eyes narrowed, ready to pounce on revenge. "Believe it or not," she mulled, more to her than him. "I've been looking for you for a _very_ long time."

And she disappeared, reappearing beside him, drawing her sword and clashing with his; her psychotic grin plastered on her face.

"Who are you?" Choosing his questions wisely, he deflected her next attack, parrying her blow instinctively.

Letting out a sigh, she answered him with a sneer, almost disappointed at him. "Hikari. I'm part of Aizen's army."

"You're wearing _black_ instead of white." It wasn't a question, and Ichigo frowned slightly.

Her attire wasn't the standard clothing that most _shinigami_ wore – it was definitely not a _shihakushou_. But it wasn't the white uniform that united the Arrancars together, despite the only similar feature of that uniform was the colour, since the actual article clothing greatly varied, intending to bright out the personality of the Arrancar. Hers was a mixture of the two: black and attire that complimented her, loose fitting and at different lengths. That girl had issues.

"New fashion trend." Hikari breezily replied, completely bored with the inquiry session. "Guess what. It happens."

And for the briefest moment, there was hesitation, a twinge that he shouldn't do this. Because… there was something – _something_… that didn't quite—

Then she spoke, and his doubt was gone. After all, the two of them were strangers.

"Are you going to fight me, orange-berry? Or are you going to run?"

Ready for action, he lunged out with Zangetsu.

"_Bankai!"_

—

It was a game of cat and mouse.

Striking a blow, she'd counter, quickly disappearing and reappearing from a different direction every time: up, down, left, right: there seemed to be no pattern but impulsiveness.

He pushed her back – that stupid fucking orange-berry – but she tried to stop the fall, pushing against the ground to make her fly and leap headfirst, back into action, attempting to tear his heart out – cut him, scar him, injure him, just so he could _feel_ a glimpse of what he'd done to her. And he had no fucking clue who she was.

Each time she attacked him, he caught her, every single time.

And it was grating on her nerves.

The distance was widening between them, and sooner or later, he would find a way that would surely defeat her. And she couldn't have that. Not if her life depended on it.

But she knew something that he didn't. She knew him better than he thought. So she'd murmur her odd nickname, made to annoy him and piss him off, spoke in odd tones, contorted in odd movements that would knock him off his trail of thought, because whatever she did, she had got under his skin, eerily unnerving him as she knew things that she shouldn't have. It was only to catch him off guard and kill—

She'd promised.

Oh, she'd promised to do it, so long ago.

And Aizen had said. _"On May 6th, we are going to invade Soul Society and you, Karin, are going to lead the attack. I trust, Kurosaki Karin; that you are not foolish enough to let anyone get in your way, or act impulsively on your emotions."_

But if her emotions helped her, propelling her to serve Kurosaki Ichigo's head on a platter, then whose to say that this was wrong?

She would not lose.

—

"_Getsuga Tenshou!"_

… there. It had happened again. That flinch that was slowly becoming more and more apparent, as she ducked and weaved to avoid the blow, her hesitation apparent in the tenseness of her body before being forcefully pushed away – taking heavy breaths, she struggled to continue fighting.

And another thing.

The Arrancar was getting tired.

All he had to do was wait, to find the perfect moment to strike… defeating that bitch.

—

_Crack!_

"What?" Stunned, Hikari felt the mask begin to break, revealing a fragment of her face.

_Shit._

That wasn't supposed to happen! The pink scientist said… had said… oh, she was getting desperate, careless, reckless. In the end, it didn't matter what he said, or didn't say. They were liars. All of them. And nobody could stop.

She was in a _fucking battle!_ There was no time to dwell on this. Blood trickled from her cheek. Her hand trembled as she felt a numbed version of the pain. It didn't matter if his attack had sliced the mask, slashing her skin.

"Fuck you, _orange._"

Strengthening her resolve, the Arrancar threw herself into the next attack.

—

_Weird._ That was the only word to explain it.

The way she pushed herself, the way she closed herself up, the way she held herself; all of it felt familiar, yet all of it felt unfamiliar.

He'd never seen that smile before, contrived from broken things. And maybe it was that alone that made her a stranger to him; twisting her into something unknown.

_Why?_

Why did she never use his name, let alone the contemptuous word that all the other Arrancar used?

_Why_ did she prefer to use ridiculous nicknames instead?

"_Fuck!"_

Sprawled on the floor, dazed, Hikari attempted to get up, struggling to do so. Cursing, rage flushed her face, and she clambered to her knees, trying to push herself from the ground and find the strength to stand. But her legs failed her, buckling under exhaustion, emotional as well as physical.

And her black eyes spoke volumes. Kurosaki Ichigo could feel the anger, disappointment, fear and shame.

"No… this can't be… this can't… I'm not _done!_ This isn't _over!_"

But it was. It was time to end this.

This battle was over, and he was the victor.

And so, Ichigo began the finishing blow—

—

Ichimaru Gin's grin widened, stretching across the realm of madness.

The dormant taste of copper blood began to awaken, tangible in his scaly mouth.

His little protégé was about to shatter into stained glass.

Anticipation churned in his insides, acidifying the malicious intent that had been waiting for this moment for so long.

With every breath he took, his crooked smile shattered mirrors known as confidence and free spirit.

Soon, oh, so _soon_, she would be _gone._

—

—and the mask began to break.

He stopped suddenly, the _zanpakutou _firmly in his hands.

Brown eyes widened as he realized that the mask was disintegrating before his very eyes, as the pieces fell to the ground. _Getsuga Tenshou_ had finally done enough damage to completely destroy the foundation of the bone white remnant of the Hollow Mask.

Hikari was disarmed, and looked away, sensing the inevitability of her fate: waiting in horror as the shards eventually revealed her face through slants of light and locks of jet black hair. But even the wind was cruel to her, blowing away any resistance that might have shielded her face, loose strands of hair helping tear away the china white mask. Resigned, she closed her eyes, letting it happen, too tired and hating herself. There was nothing she could do.

The bell at her neck chimed, tolling the countdown.

And finally, the last piece fell away, unmasking the perpetrator, her features frozen no longer, her identity revealed.

Kurosaki Ichigo knew that face.

"_Ka… Karin?"_


	15. life, recovery

**b u t t e r f l i i e . d r a g o n**

life, recovery

"_You __**chose**__ this path."_

* * *

Inhale. Exhale.

"It's okay…" Now matter how much she tries to soothe him, Hitsugaya Toushirou still cannot place the voice. "It's okay."

… the darkness… is lessening, lightening…

—

"Steady breaths, there we go, Hitsugaya-taichou…" Another voice says, trying to sound placating.

Another raging headache, and—

—the memories consume him.

—

_Kami._

_This… is… awkward._

_Very… very… awkward._

_To put it lightly._

_The worst part is that she's on top of him, hands placed on his chest… and she is straddling him._

_It's a possible repercussion for trying to catch her fall… unfortunately failing in the attempt._

_Suddenly, she inhales, eyelashes flickering open, a lone tear trickling down her face. Swallowing, gasping for breath, she tries to rid herself of disorientation. _

"_Shit… Yuzu!" She mumbles, blinking and glancing all around her, apparently not aware of the situation. _

"_What?" Though his breath is low, it sounds husky even to his ears._

"… _I saw… Yuzu. We… talked, and it felt like forever…" Sounding uncertain, she wipes that teardrop away, shaking slightly, the tremble almost unseen. "That wasn't a dream… I know it wasn't… I could have sworn it was longer… hey! Where… oh." The mortification is now apparent. She's finally conscious of their… position. "__**Kami.**__"_

_Quite._

"_Wow." She eventually says, trying to keep a steady voice. "This is awkward."_

_So now, Hitsugaya Toushirou is certain that he is not the only one embarrassed, as well as confused. And quite positive that he's not alone in trying to avoid some eyes._

"_I… uh, tried to catch your fall. You fainted." Gruff, he tried to explain, attempting to move as little as possible._

"_I can see that." Throat thick, she stumbles with her reply, the sardonic tone absent, still shaken. "Thank you."_

"… _how's your headache?" He could cringe at his pathetic attempt, making small talk when they're in a position like… this._

"_Headache?" Her forehead creases in remembrance. "Oh! It's gone. Must have… passed away…"_

"_Right."_

"_Yes."_

_Stagnant awkwardness is truly horrible._

_And still she hasn't…_

"_Karin?"_

"… _yes?"_

"_Are you… are you okay?"_

"_Actually, no. I feel a bit dizzy. And tired. Really, really tired. Would you mind if I just fall asleep on you?" There's a slight pause. "Don't answer that."_

_Maybe he's not the only one to feel his cheeks flare up either._

_But still, these words are pending._

"… _when you're up to it, could you get off me?"_

—

"_Why are you smiling?" _

"_Besides the fact that you are carrying me like a lady whose feet can never touch the ground?" Her eyebrow arches, arms around his neck as support. "And you're acting like a gentleman?"_

_Well. He had to make sure that she was okay._

_Karin still looks a little pale and he didn't want her to be hurt while in his care._

_Carrying her bridal style was the only possible way of ensuring that._

_She narrows the distance between them, breathing in his ear, hot and heavy._

_And her grin curves like a cat who has found a mouse to play with._

"_No reason." Laughter floats into the air, as she enjoys the moment._

_Fucking tease._

—

_The next time he sees her, there are bruises on her face and her hair is matted, her clothes are ripped, and she is grinning like a maniac, very satisfied with her actions._

_What the fuck is going on?_

_Apparently, he has said that aloud, since Kurosaki snickers, on her knees, and the teacher gives them both a questioning glance._

_Smothering a sigh, he attempts to massage his temple. It's obvious that this is going to take some time. Better make himself comfortable._

"_Report." He drawls, flicking a hand so that the shinigami teacher can begin._

"_This… __**girl**__…__this… __**monstrosity**__… I can't teach her any more! She's a menace – threatening the students, actually attacking them!"_

"_With all due respect, sensei. Do you think I __**need **__to be taught any longer? I can fight, I can use kidou. My big brother can't use kidou, and yet he's still an asset to Seireitei. And besides, those who I attacked deserved it." Tilting her head, her cold blue eyes darkened, though her voice remained strong and neutral. "Should he really be favoured and loved, while I'm despised and hated?"_

"_Kurosaki." A warning._

"_Sorry, sensei, Hitsugaya-soutaichou. I meant no disrespect." Still speaking slowly, the corner of her mouth twitched. Of course she did._

_But her point was valid._

_Hell, even __**Zaraki**__ didn't know how to use kidou, but that was more to the fact that he thought using kidou was a piss-poor pansy-ass act. No self-respecting shinigami of eleventh division would be caught using that._

_The whole reason for her to be part of the Academy was that she could be monitored, and that she would be no threat to Soul Society. And she still had a couple of months to go before she was released from her sentence._

"_Alright. Have you collected enough data on her?" He eventually says, exhaling slowly as he gathers control on the situation. "For Kurosaki Karin. Have you established an understanding on her to know that she's not a threat?"_

_He could swear that the teacher mumbles to himself. "For me? The students? The civilians? Or Soul Society itself?" But he coughs, looking bashful, and Toushirou decides to ignore that little episode. "Hai, Hitsugaya-taichou. I've concluded that she is not as dangerous to Soul Society as originally perceived. So long as she remains within Seireitei to carry out the rest of that time… it would be entirely plausible to carry another activity, if she keeps her word."_

_The teacher looks a little __**too**__ happy at the suggestion, but Hitsugaya decides not to pursue it. For now._

"_Hey, I swore. I said that I wouldn't be a threat, as long as Soul Society keep their hold on the deal. You want me to expel me from the academy, fine. But give me something else to do." Scowling, Karin glances away, dark hair clinging to the base of her neck._

"_Okay. You can do community service. Help out and make Seireitei a cleaner place. But be warned, this means there are longer moments when you're to be confined in your cell. You will be supervised more thoroughly than before. The schedule will most likely be flexible, and constantly changing. Are you sure that you want to do this?"_

_Karin smirks, and it's like a reminder of a ghost from the distant past. "Anything's fine with me. And I'd rather do community service then be bored out of my mind with such a dull academy. And hey, who knows? Maybe I'll see orange-berry again."_

_That's her consent. It's a good as it'll ever be._

"_Then it's agreed. You'll do community service instead of attending the Academy." _

_It's final._

_And a dark smile curves across her face._

—

_The door closes, there's only Karin and him, now._

_Hitsugaya Toushirou breathes out, raking his hand through his hair. He just… doesn't know what to think._

"_What the hell? Do you have any idea what you're doing?" He could throttle her. Really. She's being so stupid._

_Karin only laughs, mirthfully mocking the teacher who has long gone, as she stands up. She wipes her mouth, and cocks her head, only gazing at him in amusement. "Of course I do. I've just never realized it before."_

"_Explain."_

"… _I'm just carrying out Yuzu's wishes." Her fists clench, and she tenses, before relaxing, and speaking in a calm tone, careful to not be too emotionally vulnerable. "She said, stop digging holes. So that's what I'm doing. I'm throwing the shovel and getting out of the dirt."_

"_I don't follow."_

_Full of bruises, she still manages to make a perfect smile, somewhat wistful. "I was miserable there, fucking miserable, at the Academy. Sure, I dealt with it, the best way I could. I tried to ignore them, tried to push them away. That didn't work, they pushed back. They fucking made my life hell! And I… I could hardly stand it. But then," her smile turns rueful, and a dimple dances on her slightly flushed face. "You came along. You made it better. With you, I felt… I don't know what I felt; don't know how to phrase it… but, the world seemed bearable with you at my side." Her hand cups her face, as she tries to explain her situation. "You helped me cope. I began… I began to handle my classmates. So I promised you, that I'd give the Academy a second chance. Just like you gave me." She bites her lip, as if she revealed something that she wanted to keep hidden. "And I did. But then…" Her shoulders slumped, and with it, her breath. "… I talked to Yuzu; and it… made me think. It… redefined me. I reconsidered everything. What I want, and where I am, are two very different things."_

"_So you made a change: you got yourself expelled." The dots connected, her radical action clarified._

"_Yeah, exactly." Karin nods, her expression pensive, her voice soft and whispering. "I know what I want now. I've been so lost. But now… now, I can live again."_

"_After your sentence." _

"_Mm. After my sentence. I can wait. I've been waiting for so long." She trails off, growing quiet._

_And he gets it. It's so simple, so innocent, so sad. That there's still a part of her that believes in hope, even when she's got nothing left._

_She's the girl who has crushed her dreams, and finally begun to build them anew._

_Kurosaki Karin is both old and young, strong and vulnerable, lived a life that she really shouldn't have lived. But she has, and she's dealing with it. She's found her own two feet and learnt to walk with them, trying to chase a future. And it's so damn beautiful._

"_Karin." He doesn't mean to say her name, in fact, he's only aware of it until after the word slips out._

"_Hmm?" She's brought out of her thoughts, her inner world, and her blue eyes focus back on him. "What?"_

"_Good luck."_

_When she grins, it's almost a perfect reflection of the ten-year-old girl that he saw a glimpse of._

"_Thanks."_

—

_There's a girl outside, sweeping up the streets._

_When he finally takes notice, he approaches the window, and watches her; unaware that a small smile has curled around his mouth._

_She looks up, gazing right at him, and waves. _

_There's a tiny part of him that wants to wave back._

… _the smile made for her is never too far away from his face._

—

_She bows before him, mocking him playfully, and he can't help but chuckle. In return, she looks – alive. Cheeks flushed, a healthier pallor, she radiates happiness._

_And still a bar of black metal separates them._

"_Hitsugaya-taichou. What gives me the honour to be in your presence this time?" Arching an eyebrow, she cocks her head. It's amazing how she's made her cell feel so comfortable, and easy to live in._

"_I wanted to see you. Wanted to know how you're faring." He's rambling – he doesn't know what he's saying, and Karin looks amused, sitting back down on the floor, biting back a smile. "You look good. Healthy. Better than—" Why can't he stop talking?_

_At least she isn't making fun of him. Too much._

"_Whoa, chill. It's okay. I'm okay. The schedule is fine – I've learnt to adjust. I get to do something, so that beats boredom. And Orihime says that she's going to move to Soul Society. Maybe we'll talk more. But, then again, maybe we won't." Laughter flows easily from her lips, before she stills. "Do you need something? Or shall we contemplate something in silence?"_

_Her presence is gentle, and he feels so relieved to be here._

_He'd rather be here with her, than anywhere else with someone different._

"_I wanted to know if you'd like to train with me."_

_She leans forward, black and white and blue eyes sparkling, the answer on the tip of her tongue. But she can't help but delay it, smirking._

"_Okay. You're on."_

_And he doesn't know why his heart is beating so quickly._

—

_She fights dangerously and recklessly. Some moves she should have dodged, others she blocks and parries, instantly using shunpo to spare her long hair from getting a hair cut. Other times she's two steps ahead, planning something big, leaving bread crumbs for the grand finale._

_Because this is what it is: fun and games._

_Testing the limit, and exploring how well they bounce off each other._

"_Dance, funky boy. __**Dance**__." She taunts, twirling her zanpakutou in her hand, taps the floor three times, before she leaps back into action._

_Their swords clash, and with it, his stress fades away._

_It's almost like a dance, their actions speaking so much louder than words ever could._

—

_The door is kicked open… and there, is Kurosaki Karin, cleaning lady extraordinaire. _

"_Well, well, well, lookie here. I guess there's someone who wants me to clean your office." She arches an eyebrow, stepping into his room, looking away, no doubt for hiding a secret smile. "I guess being part of community service has it's perks, if I'm able to see you like this."_

_Community service._

_Huh._

_What are the odds that he can use that to his advantage?_

"_Hitsugaya, Hitsugaya, Hitsugaya… when __**are**__ you going to learn?" Karin smiles, as she picks up an empty bottle of sake. "Getting drunk over me is not the way to go? After all, you're welcome to visit me any time at all."_

_His face heats up._

_He is going to kill Kyouraku Shunsui. _

—

_How did things spiral out of control?_

_Did it start with a question, a comment taken more than it was supposed to?_

_Or was it simply a time-bomb waiting to happen?_

—

"_Why did you do it?" He asks her. "Why did you invade Soul Society?"_

"_Because I… I wanted revenge, okay? I wanted to shock Ichigo, make him feel guilty for putting his family behind him. He's my big brother! And for those five years…" Her voice, alternating in volume, but powerful all the same, has quietened. "… he wasn't my brother."_

_She looks up, blinking furiously._

"_You have to understand, he wasn't there."_

_Shit._

"_A lot happened in those five years. People change. I changed. Just because I felt something then, doesn't mean I feel it now."_

_Karin pauses, looks away, breathes out and continues._

"_I gave up. Gave up on everything – because, they… they said they'd kill my family. And I couldn't have that. Really. I'm not that selfish. I… they're my family. And I love them. They meant the world to me. And Ichigo never came and rescue me. I waited. Until I couldn't stand it. I fucking waited for him until I broke. They kept saying these things… and I can't hold them off forever."_

"_But you __**chose**__ to believe them. You __**chose**__ to invade. You __**chose**__ this path."_

"_Yes, I did. Would you prefer it if I hadn't? If Yuzu died, and even old goat face? They're safe now!" She snaps, furious._

"_And you don't think that's what Kurosaki did? He became a shinigami so he could __**protect**__ his family. He became a big brother so he could protect you!"_

_Their steps were the exact same… with different results._

_But Karin – Karin doesn't see that. Refuses to, because she still hates Kurosaki Ichigo, and she refuses to do anything with him. Maybe it's unconscious, but she's not seeking him out either._

"_Too little, too late. By the time he actually __**did**__ something, I was already fucked up!" Karin snarls, smouldering in rage, lost in her temper. "Even before that – I was fucked up. Aimlessly walking in the dark, I had no idea what the Hell was going on! What do you want me to say? I mean, when you came along, you were like a godsend. When you disappeared, you fucking broke my heart. You were my light… and when you left, I was stuck!" Undeterred, she let the emotions boil up and flow._

_Because once she starts, it's hard to stop, until everything is gone._

"_I thought I was in love with you! You helped me, even when you weren't there. Because… I couldn't blame you. You were my light. And then, I gave it up. And it killed me. You don't really expect me to say that 'I've never given up on you and I'm still in love with you', do you? 'Cause you should fucking grow up, Hitsugaya, if you believe that! Because I'm not! I'm not in love with you!" She steps back, and she's shaking so badly. "You were the fucking dream that I couldn't get! You were everything to me… and I stopped waiting because I knew that nothing was going to happen!"_

_It feels like even she knows that she's lying to herself._

_She has to be lying. Has to be._

"_And what if… I told you that __**I **__never stopped waiting for you?" Memories flicker in his mind, the smiles, the laughter, the different behaviour that she has when she's around him._

_He remembers her so vividly, with startling clarity, that even though he can scarcely recognize her from the past, she's still the same beautiful girl from before. More beautiful._

"_But you don't fucking know me! Every time we meet, you act like we're strangers. Like I don't mean a thing to you. So how can you __**possibly**__ be waiting for—"_

_Impulse._

_It's nothing more than impulse, grabbing her and trying to shut her up._

_And how damn pretty she looks, alive with anarchy._

_He kisses her._

—

_And it feels right._

_So damn right… it's perfect._

—

_She kisses back._

_That's all that matters._

—

_Her hands are tangled in his hair by the time she pulls away, flushed and breathless. "… I…"_

_She steps back, trying to widen the distance_

"_I shouldn't have done that." Nervously, she licks her lips; skin flourishing cerise. "Fuck. I really, really shouldn't have done that."_

"_Karin." He reaches out for her._

_It's just her name, but it's enough._

_She turns back, intense eyes speaking volumes, screaming out everything that should be heard._

_And she kisses him, crushing the distance between them once more, and he can taste everything that she's feeling: exhilaration, passion, everything. It's like a spark that won't go out, and everything they do makes chemicals react._

_Then Karin pulls away, dark locks of hair tumbling down her back. Eyes closes, her shoulders rise and fall, like she's trying to get a grip on the situation. Eventually they open, blue eyes poignant. "I've wanted to do that for a long time… but I… but this can't go on."_

"_Why not? Who's to say that this can't continue?" Because he—_

"_I'm a fucking prisoner, Hitsugaya. You're a soutaichou. How could it possibly work out?" Scathing, she spits out. Then her forehead furrows, and an idea blooms in her mind. "Unless…"_

"_Unless?"_

"_You come with me. When the sentence is over." She persists, nodding, grabbing him, excited with her revelation. "It could work! I know it could! We'd be… we'd find our own happiness, our own path to walk. We'd never have to be involved with Soul Society again! Unless, you wanted to."_

_It sounds… great. Wonderful. Idealistic._

_But is it right?_

"_Why are you doing this?" A cold breeze passes, and it feels much colder on his skin than it ever has._

"_I want to get out of here. But I don't want to be on their hit list." Disappointment is written on her face, and it feels like he's crushing her dream. "That's why I'm still here. Maybe it doesn't make sense, but… I want to prove that they can leave me alone. So, I want to know: will you come with me, when I leave?"_

_Silence._

_And she smiles sadly, and flicks his forehead. "You don't have to answer right now. Think about it. And tell me when you're ready."_

—

_He's been tired this month because he's unused to all this. The stress, the weary quarrels, the constant paperwork… even he has limits._

_When he's with her, he feels like he can take on the world. When he's with her, he feels alive. When he's with her, everything else fades away._

_But what about Hinamori?_

_He's bound by her, to look after her, and be her knight in shining armour. Who would look after her, if he left?_

_She's not the same as Karin, not as lively, not as vivacious, but he loves her nonetheless._

_Just as a friend. Unlike—_

_Unlike Karin._

_Karin, who makes him feel a plethora of emotion._

_Karin, a girl he has fallen for._

—

_The next time he sees her, far off, and pulling funny faces, he knows which path he is going to walk._

—

That's it.

All the memories of him and her.

He gets it now; he's been in love with Kurosaki Karin, waiting for her all this time.

He knows what he has to do.

—

The fuzziness, the headaches, the pain, is gone. He is tired, yes, but he isn't hiding from his emotions anymore. Aquamarine eyes blink rapidly, drinking in the scene before him.

Hinamori Momo is there.

"Momo." Breathless, he's hardly aware that he's said her name.

And she smiles.

Then—

When her lips meet his, it tastes of nothing but farewell.


	16. the harlequin

**b u t t e r f l i i e . d r a g o n**

the harlequin

"_I'm purely a product of your betrayal."_

* * *

**One year ago.**

Stunned brown eyes stared.

Defiant blue eyes stared back.

And whatever cracked up reality life was, whatever ideals that made a normal boy into a hero, crashed into a standstill.

Because life wasn't fair and things were left behind.

Kurosaki Karin just happened to be one of them.

—

_He couldn't believe it at first. _

_Not after he'd rescued Inoue Orihime, not after—_

_He risked so much in trying to rescue his friend, and now, now he had to discover that his little sister was __**gone**__?_

_What the fuck?_

_What the fuck had happened to his family?_

—

The battle was over, the truth was revealed, but still, Kurosaki Karin would not give up.

Her limbs ached, her emotions were drained, and she no more energy left, yet still that hatred, born from abandonment and betrayal coursed through her veins. Karin tasted blood on her lips, and with that in mind, only smiled bitterly at him.

Orange-berry… Kurosaki Ichigo… formerly known as Ichi-nii, stood before her, eyes wide and disbelieving. His words rang emptily, screaming in her ear, merely echoes in Karin's psychotically detached mind.

So he knew who she was. That didn't mean that their battle had come to a standstill. She could still go on, revenge her adrenaline, helping her like a puppet on strings, guiding her on the path that she was destined to take.

"Hello again, Ichi-nii." Maintaining eye-contact, she began to stand on her two feet, despite the pain that rippled through her bones; her mocking smirk never fully fading from the corner of her mouth. Stifling the pain on her face, she tried to act unaffected by her weary pain. "It's been a while."

Part of Karin knew that however calm she appeared, however composed the outer appearance might seem, _no one_ could not feel the seething hatred that burned in her scathing words.

The hollow silence, awkward by every distinction, agreed.

—

Five years.

Five fucking years.

She didn't run away. She didn't. Not like everyone thought. Just like Yuzu said—pleaded—told him every day. When she was awake. Now… now she was in a coma, and nobody knew when she was going to wake up. Heartsick, the doctors murmured. A sickness of her heart, too much, too quickly, and she just can't handle it.

_Fuck._

Kurosaki Karin, the Arrancar who had introduced herself as Hikari, was right in front of him, cold and hard and almost completely unrecognizable. But he did.

He _recognized_ her.

Somewhat.

And then the mask broke, shattered because it just couldn't sustain itself any longer, and with its departure, came Hikari's true identity.

With it, her eyes painted a darker picture to him, speaking volumes through this realization.

Kurosaki Ichigo saw her for who she really was, and her raw hurt was much more painful than every wound her body had bleed, constantly reopening and closing. There was nothing warm in her eyes, only cruel reality, and an empty listlessness; and her actions appeared as if she regarded him as an enemy, not as family.

This was _so_ fucked up.

Arms shaking, but adeptly steadying, her hands gripped her _zanpakutou_ once more. Even if she was in no condition to fight, she still – she knew_ all along_ whom her opponent was – and she knew that they were enemies and they were going to fight. Again.

But he couldn't. He couldn't raise his sword. Not now. He couldn't do a damn thing but stare, taken aback by this revelation.

This was _Karin._

_Karin._

His little sister. Bruised and bloody, clothes ripped, mask discarded, joined Aizen and his Arrancars and hating his very presence.

And he just couldn't fight her, knowing this.

—

"Karin, you—"

"Shut the fuck up."

Blunt, she interrupted, her anger pale white, her face expressionless and diminishing in colour. Muscles tightened, her irises betrayed her guarded face and walled emotions: hate, sorrow, and a pain that could never be healed.

She had had enough.

"Shut up and fight me."

—

And yet, neither moved.

—

Something was wrong.

It was in the air, in the wind, in the flared _reiatsu_, recognizable only as Arrancar.

An invasion.

Fucking _brilliant_.

"Some welcome." Hitsugaya Toushirou frowned, pulling out his _zanpakutou_. It seemed like all he was doing was going from one fight zone to another, even if they had less Arrancars there that were 'threats'. To the civilians, they may be, but to him, Hitsugaya Toushirou, tenth taichou of the Gotei Thirteen, they were not.

"You mustn't say that, taichou!" Matsumoto cheerfully chirped, grinning; tangerine orange hair aflutter. "Think in the positive side – this is exercise! I bet you've gotten a little rusty."

The tenth taichou only scoffed in return.

Karakura Town was not the place in which his fighting skills turned 'rusty'.

So. No one had greeted them when they returned to _Seireitei, _and what they discovered was that Aizen was hoisting a skirmish for them, as a reminder that they weren't dead, and were ready for the next course of action; and now that Matsumoto and himself were here, they might as well participate, lowering the numbers in Aizen's army.

All the same… he's back.

And sooner or later, he'll see Hinamori again.

But now, to protect her, and the residents of _Rukongai_, he had to fight and conquer the enemy.

His grip tightened on his sword, _Hyourinmaru._

"We'll see about that."

What a wonderful welcome home.

—

Stalemate.

Neither one moved, one shocked, the other too tired.

Emotions were weaknesses after all, and Kurosaki Karin just couldn't bear to kill them for the sake of a better future. Repressing them felt just as bad, for then, she had to dread the moment where everything came undone. Her body swayed, and she struggled to keep on holding to consciousness. Black dots danced in front of her, blurring the air that she used to breathe.

Swallowing down bile, her pride would not allow her to show weakness to the person that she loathed the most.

_Shut up and fight me._

Bold words. Especially since she couldn't last much longer, staring contest be damned.

"I… I don't understand." The orange-berry spoke, words like a noose to her neck.

"No, of course you don't. Why would you? After all, what's to be understood? You, who abandoned me; you, who didn't rescue me; you, who made me the person who I am now; there's nothing _to_ understand. What you see is what you get: you left me, and this is what I became. I'm purely a product of your betrayal."

It didn't matter if her entire body was growing numb.

It didn't matter if her world was being shattered by his guilty expression. Because she knew it was a lie.

All that mattered was that Kurosaki Ichigo knew that he was the one responsible for every single day her life had become a living hell.

Maybe this mission was destined to fail, but to Kurosaki Karin, it didn't fucking matter. She'd found her target, she'd aimed straight for the heart, and in return, she was breaking even further, her sanity being chipped away, even as she spat her words out like shards of bloody glass. It was kamikaze, both had to hurt for the maximum effect – making this vendetta personal was all she had.

And she had clung to this moment for a very long time, while she was isolated in the depths of solitude. This was what she had been waiting for all this time.

"What?" He looked horrified, how fucking _pitiable_. What did he regret more, Karin idly wondered as she narrowed her black eyes, the word that slipped past his mouth, or the ignorance (or was it?) that seemed to sustain him all these years?

Uncontrollable, the words burst through her, her rage inflating once more. "Why the _fuck_ do you have that _expression _on your face? I don't _need_ your pity! I don't need you! In fact, if you keep looking at me like that… I'm going to rip your face off. With my bare hands. I don't care who sees, I don't care what happens – but take that goddamn _look _off your face!"

She could be shouting, could be screaming, could be crying – but Kurosaki Karin had had it. And resilient as she was, no matter how much she endured, anger consumed in her, and she scorned the flame that burned her. And she didn't care about herself, didn't care if the whole world had stopped and listened to her – all she cared was that the orange-berry, Kurosaki Ichigo was going to die.

—

And as she leapt forward to fulfil her actions, something happened.

_Someone _happened.

—

"Babe, we're leaving." Grimmjow growled in her ear, feral as his nails sunk into her skin, possessive, biting the tip of her ear, his arm rendering her unable to move, pushing her so closely to him. "Hate the ruin the fun for ya, but this is a fucking waste of time."

"Really?" Karin murmured, holding onto him for fear of fainting. She _had_ to maintain consciousness. Had to. Under no circumstances was she to lose her grip on reality. And then she directed her eyes at her opponent, leaning nearer to Grimmjow. Let the orange-berry think what he want, as long as he got hurt in the process. "Have you noticed that we're that we're being _watched_?"

"Fucking let them then. It doesn't concern them." He hissed, electric blue eyes flashing dangerously. And he smirked, teeth grazing her skin.

Her leer widened in response, relishing the disgust that she could sense at their display of intimacy. So she whispered, drawling theatrically.

"It's _Kurosaki Ichigo."_

Then Grimmjow, Sexta Espada, threw his head back, laughed maliciously, and kissed Karin in one quick motion, crushing her against him, no room left between them.

Because both of them knew that their action would only add salt to the wound. The wound that had grown and frozen these past five years, and had now reopened, bleeding more painfully than ever.

This was their relationship of Karin and Grimmjow; revenge directed at Kurosaki Ichigo, united because it benefited both parties. And if they both got a kick out of it, then so much the better.

"How would that bastard feel," Grimmjow's deep voice rumbled in her mouth, "if he knew that I was fucking his little sister?"

"He'd want to fucking kill you." She laughed spitefully, letting his kisses run rampart on her skin, sinking down her neck. No doubt they'd leave a mark. But then, appearances were deceiving, and she was trapped in a world of lies. "If he cared enough. Who knows? I daresay he doesn't have a heart any longer."

Brown eyes met midnight blue.

Disgust and delight.

And she smirked, because if she was enjoying this, then her big brother was fucking repulsed.

This was to show him, that she was different. That she wasn't sweet. Wasn't innocent. Wasn't anything like the little sister he thought she was. And truthfully, Kurosaki Ichigo had driven her to this, and she was barely holding on to sanity as it was.

"So lets." Snarling bestially, Grimmjow continued. "Kill him. Together."

"I thought you said that we had to go." Coolly, she reminded him, cold hand sliding to his neck. No matter the time, or the place, flirtation always was an option between them. It pissed other people off, and there was twisted pleasure in that logic.

"Damn you, you bitch." A snarl, and he decided to fuck his previous thoughts. Screw them; he was going to murder Kurosaki Ichigo before her very eyes, if only so that it could bring a smile to her face.

"Bastard." She replied, their names of affection easily passing her lips.

After all, this whole thing was a game, to see who would break and who would pull themselves together.

She only smirked, watching out of the corner of her eye, the orange-berry unable to move.

Neither moved.

But eventually, Grimmjow and Karin turned away, smirks written on both their faces. One morbidly satisfied to the very bone. The other, sick to her stomach because the emotions returned unexpectedly, and wouldn't go away.

This whole skirmish was a fucking waste of time. No fighting, no talking, no bullshitting; it was only a stalemate showdown, and apparently, tonight no one was going to die.

Well.

No one important. Minion Arrancars might, if their battles didn't fare well. But then again, Karin didn't care about them.

Bones clicked into place, speed breaking every one.

—

_Fuck._

Just… _fuck._

His little sister.

His own sister.

His sister—_here_. In Soul Society. On _Aizen's_ side.

It's just—

Fucking insane. Fucking crazy.

It _shouldn't_ make sense!

Yet it did.

It shouldn't be _true!_

But it was.

Just like the evident disappointment that tethered him to his very spot; willpower alone unable to make him move.

And, he knew – _kami._ Kurosaki Ichigo knew that every word that had been spat out, venomously, spitefully, jarringly—Ichigo knew that she meant every single word.

Ignorance was no excuse – he should have—should have saved her sooner.

Because only the blind would have not seen the hurt written so plainly on her face.

—

It's almost a farce, how they run into each other; and Karin disengaged herself from the Sexta Espada.

"What the fuck are you doing?" Growling, electric blue eyes watch her, wary of every move.

"Oh nothing." Airily, she replies, barely even giving him a glance. "It's just… a bit of business I want to take care of."

A frown marred his face. "Thought you already did."

A scoff, a roll of eyes, Karin truly was sick of this; feeling drained and blood drying so clearly on her skin, even though it was invisible. She was so tired of maintaining an image, wished to tear her self and rebuild her self once more. Even if, in this exact moment, it felt impossible – soon, it might not be.

"But this is _different._" Crooning, she purred, legs heavy as Karin used her willpower to move forward – where a certain _shinigami_ stood frozen, eyes as aquamarine as she remembered, if not more so.

"This is…" Blue-black eyes closed, searching for the word and finding nothing. "… something I want to do."

—

Breaking points.

Aizen mused, eyes deep in thought, returning to the game of _shogi._

_Breaking_ points.

It was always a fun game to play, though he suspected that Ichimaru Gin found it infinitely more fascinating.

How far could one go before the other simply… gave up, aware that they can't go to their original position anymore? For tainted purity could never be pure once more. The idea had its merits, and Aizen had no qualms about _pushing_ people to their limits. But he… he was in pursuit for something bigger.

Better.

Break the whole world, if it meant that he could achieve his goal.

And as for Kurosaki Karin… the fool who indulged in the world of fabrication… and acted like a harlequin that continuously swapped masks… Aizen wondered, how much longer would she last, before her entire soul was consumed in broken pieces?

—

A _shinigami_ was beside an Arrancar. The Arrancar held her in place, yet left no mark on her, and supported her, until she moved away from his grasp.

Walking straight towards him; limping a little, a twisted smirk contorting her mouth.

Traitor? Ally? Fool? Or mastermind?

He didn't recognise her, the girl who was slowly narrowing the distance between them, alluring eyes drawing him in. But then, Hitsugaya Toushirou, that didn't matter. Not yet. Not right now. Maybe later, but not in the present.

Dark black hair cascaded down her neck, as she tilted her head slightly, mouth parted.

Yet he heard the words that remained unspoken.

And words flashed in his mind. Words that he didn't remember. Words that he should have.

Because—this _moment_—was important. Even if it was over before it had even begun.

_May 6__th__._ Something important – something meaningful – and that day—

Was _today._

And words were out before he even realized it, out before he realized that his heart was beating so fast.

"Happy birthday."

The _shinigami_ only smirked in return, turned and was gone.

Mocking laughter rang like ghosts in the air.

_At least __**someone**__ remembered._

It took Hitsugaya Toushirou a little longer to discover that the Arrancar, which had been scowling through out their entire meeting, had also gone.

Yet still, he had no idea why his heart was racing so much.

—

Ichimaru knew the truth, had kept the true intention of the skirmish undisclosed.

And despite what Kurosaki_ Karin_ might say about it, the mission was a success.

Because now, Kurosaki _Ichigo_ knew where she was; thus, being the honourable big brother that he was, he would, in no uncertain terms, rescue her.

Even if he only had a glimpse of the person that she had become, and had no idea what she was truly like, all the same, he would not resist his instinct: to save her.

Save her he would, because Ichimaru Gin would make sure of it.

All according to plan.

—

When she saw the white sandy layout of Hueco Mundo, her stomach could bear it no longer.

Kurosaki Karin collapsed, legs buckling, as vomit surged through her mouth, emptying the entire contents out of her body, all the emotions drained from her hollow skin. Her entire stomach was empty, yet still, she felt as if more would come out: intestines, livers, kidneys, anything and everything that tethered her to humanity.

She didn't care about her appearance, how Grimmjow practically threw her in his arms, all the time she retched and retched and retched, her nails dug into his skin, raking and tearing for something she didn't even know was there.

Hope was not something that existed.

It no longer held a place in her heart; discarded so long ago with heartbreak and bloodshed.

"Fuck's sake, get a fucking grip on yourself." Grimmjow muttered.

Her only was a reply was a strangled gasp, before blood trickled down her lips, copper melding into her skin. Blue eyes widened, shocked by her body's rejection.

And for a second, Karin swore that she spat out blood that was not of bountiful life, but of beautiful family.


	17. life, unrestrained

**b u t t e r f l i i e . d r a g o n**

life, unrestrained

"_Where the fuck have you been?"_

* * *

Bleached white sand has turned to faded grey, a battlefield of skulls and remnants of chipped Arrancar bone.

Wind blows, gusts throws sand mockingly in the air, howling as nothing else resides in the faded landscapes of Las Noches.

It has been lonely in the land of isolation and despair.

He is not alone, yet he is more alone than he would care to admit.

These Hollows. These Gillians. These Menos Grande. These Adjuchas.

Every single one of them is fucking _weak_.

He might be the king of Las Noches now, but it's a bore since everyone can't even put up a good fight. Maybe if he indulges himself, he'll slaughter the odd one or two, simply because they looked at him wrong or their mere presence was an eyesore. But killing sprees is essentially just killing time; it no longer serves any purpose.

What he wants is _challenge._ Defiance. To find that one bug and crush it. And do so much more than that. Squishing it isn't enough: he's got to see every ounce squeeze out of that body, staining the floor, spit out provocative remarks, fight _back_, and then… watch the hope drain out of their face, despair flooding with salt tears, cruelly licked away.

Mental torture might fuck a person for a while, but it takes a long time, and he really didn't have the patience for that.

Physical damage… well. It might be crude. But it took less time to scar someone. Quick results and quick consequences. He could appreciate the beauty in that. And actually, screams were pleasant to his ears. Scrabbling hands, weak voices, deadened eyes…

What he required was fun. Entertainment.

Someone like _her._

Kurosaki Karin. Hikari. Rin.

There were so many names, and she hardly cared for any of them.

_Bitch_ always seemed appropriate.

He was selfish and she was selfish, and together they basked in their sin. Her mocking smile, her tempting mouth – together they destroyed the fabrications that held them together. Flesh and blood and scent and soul; greed knew no limits when it came to their prisoner. She'd spit in his face and claw at his skin, pulling him in and pushing him away, always a battle of who would yield.

And she always drew blood.

Kiss or kill, that was their rule; neither one succumbing to the role of the loser.

And the underlying agreement of backstabbing Kurosaki Ichigo. The look on his face… fucking _fantastic_.

But now… she was gone.

Taken away.

With her, she had crumbled away the fortress of Aizen and Tousen and fucking Ichimaru.

Because her rescuer finally _arrived._

When he did… the descent of Aizen's defeat began.

Blood was shed on both sides, but the clear victor was obvious. Yet to him, that didn't mean a damn thing. All he wanted was to fight and fight and fight some more. Hear the swords clash against each other as the black and blue sky became splattered with blood. Feel the adrenaline pump through him and soak him with sweat, exhilaration coursing through every vein and down his skin. Scowl and swear and choke on his gargling spittle.

To be the loser was humiliating, and through every pore of him shrieked in outrage… eventually the enemy cut him down.

Yet he survived.

He was covered in sand and completely forgotten once he woke, bones creaking and breaking and snapping in pain.

And all around him lay a halcyon land of split crimson liquid, mixing in with the white sand, slowly crusting into copper solid.

Both the enemy and his own kind.

It hardly mattered that the white sand became tinged with ivory skeletons and remnants of bones.

The battle was over, and the enemy, assuming he was dead, or dying, had left him there to rot in his own uselessness.

Some he recognized; crescent shaped swords that implied that it was overcompensation; the pumpkin of a million eyes. Others he did not; a tangerine-haired buxom _shinigami_, with no arm; and a fat and ugly man, his face no longer recognisable.

Even—

Well, the whole lot of them could go to Hell for all he cared.

Only blood, bruises, sweat and tears mattered. And the inevitable death that followed.

Passion burning into the ashen dust.

Desperation fading as the lights of their eyes disappears. Though even then, their mark remained beneath the stilled expression.

Such _glee._

Bones crunched and cracked beneath his feet, shattering into nothingness as Grimmjow Jeagerjaques stretches his limbs, bones clicking as he exercises every muscle.

For a year he waited, growing stronger and recovering every fibre in his body.

And now he is ready.

—

When she wakes up, there's a twisted grin already on her face, widening as black lashes fluttered open. Lying on the floor, loose hair sprawled and contorted, her hands curl against raven tresses. Slowly she begins to move, sitting up, aware of everything as she sits up, dull ache rippling through her.

These days she is not allowed to leave her cell.

And that suits her just fine.

Head downcast, she closes her eyes, chest rising; shoulders shudder delightfully as she rakes her hand through her hair, pale skin such a contrast to flushed out joy. She can hardly breathe. And still her smile never leaves her face, curving as she throws her head back.

Then she laughs, and she laughs and she _laughs._

She would clap if she wasn't overjoyed by this revelation.

The shadows crawl over her skin, and Kurosaki Karin is nothing short of amused.

He's _here,_ his _reiatsu _seeping into her skin and prickling her senses_._

Motivated by greed can only get anyone so far: take, use and drop when the time came. And maybe it's worked, and maybe it hasn't: it could be a suicide mission because there's no one left or a 'rescue mission' because she's piqued his interest and crept under his skin, making sure that she's an addictive drug to him.

Only time can tell.

And it will.

—

Invading this shitty place was easier than he thought.

He's made of impulsive and adrenaline rushes, whatever the challenge is, however it's presented, if it captures his attention, then he'll do his best to conquer it and make it smoulder till its last breath, splattering the sky a new colour of rusted dusk.

These fucking peons aren't worth killing, but that doesn't mean that their bones won't break. Just because.

He follows his whim, his innocent desire that always results in havoc and disaster: all the more fun, as long as he isn't gasping last regrets that don't exist. Never have.

Wherever he goes, he can sense her; leading a trail to her. Taunting him, mocking him, questioning him; constantly a fluctuation of childlike indulgence and insanity, and he's always liked that aspect about her, with her bloodthirsty leers that lap up slaughter like oxygen.

He hates her for being weak and breaking down, though that in itself is satisfying simply because it is different to her normal apathetic behaviour that has that distant smile on her face like a bloody loon.

Yet somehow it's redeemed with her feverish kisses, and that urge to wipe everything into a blank canvas… starting from scratch and blaze anew.

She was in such a state of instability that it was hard to resist temptation, and why should he resist if both were to gain something from their… relationship. And besides, fucking someone didn't just have to be physical.

So here he is.

In Soul Society.

Simply for a whim and to find his little possession once more; possibly show pity and mercy to such a creature tainted in darkness… simply to take it away and revel with the after effects.

Maybe.

He supposes it might be something like that could happen; but he'll never know unless instinct strikes that particular chord.

Right now instinct is telling him to seek Kurosaki Karin out.

—

Grimmjow Jeagerjaques' footsteps are loud against the exhilarated heartbeat that's pounding in her chest.

She's standing up and feeling dead on her feet, but that's nothing compared to the possibility of absolute chaos that might happen in his presence. Closing her eyes only heightens the sensation and the growing anticipation that feels like a sun about to explode. Her hands use the black pillars for support as she leans in, forehead touching the cold, cold metal; yet it does nothing to stop this… feeling.

Madness. Insanity. Freedom.

To taste freedom in all the right places and achieve it all the wrong ways.

But whatever discrepancies that she might have about the subject disappears when she hears dull thuds from the guards standing so far away, and the looming echo that sense shivers up her spine.

She thinks about Pandora's Box and melancholic clowns and ferocious kitty-cats that refuse to be tamed as well as wild grass and their insistence to be cut down.

She thinks about Yuzu and Toushirou and the path she tried to reach but evidently failed.

And then she forgets as her head lifts up and the darkness and circulating thoughts flitter away from her pale face, revealing that stupidly distorted grin that she knows he likes so much. Receiving one in return only enhances the outbreak, fuzzy, dizzy sensation that could almost be called deliria with such a craving for destruction.

But all Karin says is this.

"And what are you doing here in this… charming house of mine?" Depreciation drips from every nuance of her voice and she loves the thrill that tingles at her fingertips.

"Guess." He growls, electric blue eyes glinting like spark-plugs zapping away life with a shock to the system.

"Why should I?" He'll only gloat and boast and take as much time as he wants before it comes to a colliding halt. "I'm sure you're simply dying to tell me, after, what, so long?"

She can feel his guffaw from the base of her neck, and it rumbles all around them in desolate hysteria.

Their symbiotic relationship hasn't changed. Even now, Arrancar and human, they are simply using each other as a means to the end; taking advantage of anything that may serve or work against them in the future.

"I've come to take you away."

Make no mistake, this may be considered kidnapping, but it does not mean rescue. Karin is not so delusional to believe in that.

And she grins, shark-like as she bares her teeth meant to resemble a smile.

"If that's the case, what took you so long?" Laughing, sneering, rearranging all her features into sometime pleasant and chilling and impatient.

Her prison is about to be shattered like mere panes of glass, each reflection another side of intoxicating lunacy.

"Where the fuck have you been?"

Recklessly arrogant, he merely tosses his head in response, motivated solely for himself, his jaw ajar in contemptuous provocation.

"When have you ever fucking cared?"

—

Simple blink and they're gone.

And when she steps into stagnant air that reeks of freedom, all that surrounds her are dead men and a dynasty of ruin.


	18. the inevitable

**b u t t e r f l i i e . d r a g o n**

the inevitable

"_She's my sister."_

* * *

**One year ago.**

Combining the expression of Elrond's face in _Lord of Rings_, when Pippin and Merry abruptly joined the Fellowship with the phrase _what shit is this?_ summed the situation quite nicely.

To put it lightly.

The whole predicament – the mind-blowing discovery…

Kurosaki Ichigo didn't know where to start.

He needed to think. Compartmentalize and rationalize. Fucking _think_ and get his head round this.

But—before all of this—before any of this event occurring—

Kurosaki Ichigo knew he should have found a way to stop it.

Be the saviour.

Protect his friends.

Protect his family.

And he had failed.

—

He felt sick. Wanted to throw up so badly. Yet he couldn't.

All the same, these feelings choked him; building up inside, the guilt always overbearing. He should have been there. Should have saved her. Should have—

He should have done so many things and he hadn't. He didn't.

… maybe he couldn't.

He had to rescue Inoue. Had to. Then go home.

And when he did… he found out that… Karin was gone. No one knew where. No one knew how. She was just … gone.

Just gone.

Now she wasn't. She was here. Alive. Pale, shaking, but alive.

Part of him never gave up, despite everything that said otherwise. Blind belief. Faith. Yuzu was the exact same, although she… she was in a coma, collapsing one day; her sweet smile shattering the plate in her hand. Or so the doctors said, scratching their heads, quite puzzled. They chalked it up to too much heartbreak, depression and trauma.

Urahara said otherwise. Something's changed her _soul._ It's been… tampered with. Cut in two. A messy cut, at that. It's unstable.

And he didn't know the solution, suggesting time, maybe. It all depended. On _what?_ That was the unanswered question.

Even now, it remained a mystery.

But… if Yuzu _was_ awake… would he tell her? Would he go right this instant and tell his baby sister that he'd finally found her. And she was so, so different from the person that they had known all their life. Her kindness and vivaciousness had been replaced with spite and a deadness that penetrated the very core of her. It was… different, and not in a good way. She had made herself unrecognizable, or at least, _he_ hadn't understood _anything_ until her mask shattered and forced him to confront the situation.

But—he _had_ to talk to someone. Let these emotions flow. It didn't matter what they did or didn't say. It just… this had been building up since the very start. And he needed someone to take emotional refuge in. Bottling these feelings wouldn't do any good.

"I found her." He whispered, more to himself than her, the words both a curse and a blessing. "I found her, Yuzu."

Silence passed between them, as he mustered the words that had to be said to her. It was better, maybe it would one day be cathartic, to say these words aloud. And in a place where Yuzu might hear; his little sister who was there for him, always offering an ear and a cheerful smile that could always brighten his day. Those days that were golden.

"_I found Karin." _

But those words did nothing to lessen his guilt. They didn't do anything but make him feel hollow, cold phantom that ghosted reality.

So he sank, against the wall, down on his knees, his heavy burden crumbling and corroding and dissolving through his skin. Breathing felt hard, the mere memory of in and out almost a feat too much for him.

His hands raked through his hair, almost pulling, but not quite. It hurt, painfully and numbingly, but it wasn't compensation, it was just self-depreciation and self-loathing and self-punishment and—

"And I'm so, so sorry."

—

He barely even heard those words that slipped past his mouth; both falling apart and holding on.

—

Words clammed up his mind; making it hard to think – Hitsugaya Toushirou wasn't in peace, he was in fucking _chaos._

He was shaking, so terribly, that he wasn't quite sure what to make of it. He felt hot, he felt cold, like a fever had decided to take turns and cast him into different pits of Hell just because he was ice.

And there was a girl. A girl. A girl with blue eyes, colder and darker than anything he'd seen before. A girl with black hair that tangled in the night and the shadows, coiling around her neck in nothing more that immorality, because she just didn't know when to stop. A girl that was unlike anything he'd ever seen before.

A girl that was so familiar and so unfamiliar that nothing could place her, yet she haunted him with her very presence and ghostlike laughter.

Then she'd smiled, twisting into such brilliance that he could see it all: everything that she'd tried to hide from the world, yet it evoked such emotions that he saw past her façade.

A girl.

Her.

Important. She was—so very important.

_Why?_

Who was she?

It didn't make sense, any of it.

She wasn't an Arrancar that much had been clear. But little else was.

… he'd said something to her. Something that was… something that his mind couldn't dredge up. Meaningless words, common words, significant words – the details slipped past him because he couldn't _concentrate_ on _anything but her._ What had he said? Did she say anything in response?

_Kami-sama._

He tried to calm down, force himself to consider his options rationally and steadily, but his blood rushed through him and invigorated him, inhibiting his ability to _think._

His heart was beating at an increased rate, and it seemed to have no intention of slowing down.

Did the… Hitsugaya shook, and his thought track dissolved into dust.

Clutching various objects, he made his way to his desk; his grip fumbling as he groped his was through the furniture and slumping at the walls.

_This isn't healthy._ Inhaling and exhaling, the tenth taichou told himself harshly. _This isn't good._

But his mind was becoming cloudy, and his vision was blurring; yet among the silence and the drum of his heart, he still heard her voice mock the entire situation.

A note was placed on his desk, neatly placed along side variously sheets of paperwork, which had gradually been building during the weeks he had been absent. Beside various sheets of paperwork… and a bottle of pills.

Swallowing, throat dry, Hitsugaya Toushirou gingerly approached the pills, attempting to remain in control with his fluxing body behaviour. He felt light-headed and quickly scanned over the scribble of words, willing himself to makes sense of the thick black lines.

_Welcome back. Thought you might enjoy another supply, if it helps you in your endeavours to becoming future soutaichou._

Taking a deep breath, he undid the lid, trembling as only one pill left the container. Closing his hand, nails dug into his skin; yet nothing was felt, no pain, nothing. Then the palm of his hand unfolded, seeing that the pill remained untouched, surrounded by a half-circle of crescent shaped marks.

Lifting his hand to his mouth, he thought, about that girl and her mysteries that he wanted to unravel, about that girl and his ridiculous heart. His choice was made, and he chose to continue living like this, for it gave him a peace of mind.

He closed his eyes and swallowed.

And so Hitsugaya Toushirou forgot.

—

Splashing cold water in his face did nothing. It barely was a shock. It barely allowed him to get a grip on himself and wash away that look off his face. But droplets of water slid down his cheeks and soaked his skin and stung his eyes, dripping through eyelashes; proving that it wasn't a dream. That he's _here._ In the mortal world, visiting Yuzu because he's desperately trying to find a way—

A way to—

A way to think. Decide. Relax. Breathe. And continue, marching and forging a path.

Besides his family.

Besides Rukia.

_Speak of the devil._

Arms folded, head tilted, armed with a drawing pad, a selection of pencils and that oh-so-welcome hand-glove. Rukia was upside down compared to the usual linearity of say… everything else, and about to break the window.

Thankfully, she knocked.

And reluctantly, Kurosaki Ichigo prepared himself for whatever was going to happen next.

The punch was not unexpected. But it wasn't unavoidable either.

Yet… in someway, it was refreshing. A method that forced him to take everything into account, accept and deal with it. And move past the guilt.

"I think someone needs to kick some sense into you." Rukia rolled her eyes, and for the weirdest reason, Kurosaki Ichigo began to laugh. Not pleasantly, not even humorously, but hysterically.

When all else failed, Rukia was there to offer her shoulder and make a slap-dash mess of a thing called art.

A wry smile spread onto his face, though Kurosaki Ichigo was completely unaware of it.

"Let me guess, you're the one who's going to do it?"

Some things don't change.

—

The Hollow grinned and leered, the fifth out of the Slay A Hollow Medley.

Folding her arms, Rukia watched Ichigo impassively, focusing on how improve his technique, and aid him running.

He could try, slash and attack and kill a Hollow without a second thought. He could succeed in a bat of an eye. And so he did. Kurosaki Ichigo fought and fought and defeated yet another Hollow.

But all she saw was a man who had taken resignation like a duck to water. Hence why he disappeared from Soul Society; reappearing in Karakura Town – maybe it was so he could find himself or maybe it was just a way to redefine his moral. She didn't know.

Something had happened. And she didn't know what.

"Ichigo! What are you doing? Are you going to stop being such a baby and fight? Or are you going to continue being cautious and withdraw into yourself?" If there was a chance, then maybe shouting to him might be the only way to get across to him.

"What the hell has _happen_ to you?"

And Ichigo flinched, shock passing over his face.

Looking away, he turned back, facing her; his presence darker and colder than before.

"… Karin." He said reluctantly, the words thick in his throat. "When the Arrancar launched an attack, I saw her." Shadows crept under his eyes and refused to move. "More than that… I fought her. Didn't even realize it was her until… her mask broke. It was her… and I couldn't do a thing. I couldn't do _anything!_" Anguish and frustration mingled, battling it out on his downcast face. "Aizen… had her? This whole time?"

His shoulders slumped, and Kuchiki Rukia hated it. Hated the look on his face and what had happened.

Aizen had kidnapped Karin. Who knows what had happened during those five years, but clearly it had changed Ichigo's little sister, and who knew if the damage was irrevocable or not.

She wanted to ask what changed, what was different, how was she; even though they were questions for a later date. Now, her goal was make Ichigo get it together. Later was another story.

"So what?" Her coldness was almost as effective as a punch to the gut. "Aizen has your sister, and all you're doing is _complaining _and _whining _and _angsting_? Get a _grip_, Ichigo! You have a problem – then do something about it! Remember," Rukia's mouth went dry, but she swallowed and forced herself to talk. "Remember when I was taken to Soul Society to be executed – or when Orihime was taken to Hueco Mundo? What did you do then? You didn't just give up and fall back! You _did _something. If you had a problem, you'd get over it! That's who you are – so what's stopping you this time?"

"I—"

"If you think you're weak, get stronger. If you think you can't do it, think again. If you think that just because something's different, don't feel left behind – change! Adapt! Find a way to make it right!"

Pointing to a Hollow, Ichigo was there in an instant; destroying the Hollow with a killer blow, different to the person he was seconds before.

That spark flickered back in his eyes, blazing once more; a smirk once more appearing on his face, proud and strong and ready.

"Okay, that's enough Rukia. Now _shut_ up!"

Kuchiki Rukia couldn't help but grin in return.

_That_ was more like it.

—

"So."

They're sitting on a balcony, just watching the entire town below them continue, utterly oblivious to these two people, more entwined yet far apart than thought possible.

"So."

Ichigo exhaled, leaning back, strangely content in a fleeting sense of peace, just for this moment, just for a short while. Being a _shinigami_ had its benefits, after all, if he accidentally fell, he could stop midway and, if he actually hit the ground, he wouldn't die of blood loss. And there wouldn't be a body either, so there'd be no spectacle. Which was pretty convenient for _shinigami_ and Hollows actually, being invisible had its perks, and it's drawbacks.

But that's what happened in the afterlife.

"Here." And Rukia offered him a Juice Box, still her favourite drink in Karakura Town, a soft smile on her face. "I think you need it more than I do."

"Thanks." He said, and as their fingers brushed against each other, he realized, time and time again, how much Rukia was his life, the person who kept him anchored, and who he could tell his secrets to. Well. Nearly all his secrets. There was _one_ that he couldn't tell her. But that was for another day.

"Welcome."

"No." He shook his head, he didn't convey his message well enough. "I mean, _thank you_. For… for everything." Taking another breath, he tried to explain it. "You have no idea, no idea at all, how grateful I am for having you in my life. So, really, Rukia. Thank you."

And she smiled, bright and beautiful as he'd always seen her, his guiding light.

"You're welcome, Ichigo."

—

"I can't leave her, Rukia." The orange-haired _shinigami_ declared. "Not after seeing her like that. So… different. Sad. Broken." The last word was spoken quietly, as if it wasn't ready to be said. Yet he continued, pursuing his beliefs. "But still. I can _save_ her, I know I can. I know it's not too late!" Determination shone through out, blazing through his brown eyes. "I made a promise to Yuzu, and I'm not about to break it. And I'm her big brother, I'm meant to look out for her, look after her. I can do this!"

Rukia could see it now, how those thoughts push him to be what he's always been, but never realized.

So strong, so determined, so desperate to become reality; those words struck a resonance through her. And she couldn't bear for his desire to come true, because Ichigo had gone through Hell, blaming himself and hating himself because he didn't know what to do, or where she was, worried sick while he tried to survive and fight through the war. Trying to remain the hero, and reassure Yuzu, retreating more into his shell when she was diagnosed comatose… and Rukia decided, to be his pillar, and his shoulder whenever he felt down, getting him through this, slowly but surely.

Family was the most important thing; and he hated feeling so useless, and unable to help them.

"Ichigo…" His name was a mantra, said so often and so softly, that sometimes the words flowed naturally on her tongue, his name motivation, his name comfort.

"I'll find a way to make this right. To make this whole… fucked up situation better. She can change, Karin… Karin can change, be alright, be… herself." He's not talking to her, he's speaking his thoughts aloud because if he kept them within himself, he'd explode. "Everything is going to be okay; because I have faith in her. I believe that my sister is still in there. Whatever the fuck Aizen has done, it can be overcome. Rukia…" He breathed her name like it was oxygen, and already Kuchiki Rukia was drawn to him like a moth to a flame. "She's my sister."

It hurt to breathe and break the moment, when he's so passionate about this. Passionate in such a long time, and Rukia remembered with horrible clarity his vacant stare as he drifted, lost in the clouds until she pulled him from whatever pedestal he placed himself on and let him see the ground. And even if he came up with an idea that could change the very nature of the War, as long as he had people behind him, who believed in him, it wasn't wrong to let him fly and soar.

Because that was the kind of person Kurosaki Ichigo was. He gave people hope, and he damn well deserved his own happiness.

"So what are you going to do?" Firm and gentle, Kuchiki Rukia asked him, already knowing the answer, because it was _Ichigo_, and he was like a second skin to her, one whom she'd know inside and out.

But sometimes, hearing the answer spoken aloud strengthened the resolve.

"I'm going to rescue Karin."


	19. life, foregone

**b u t t e r f l i i e . d r a g o n**

life, foregone

"_Have a nice life."_

* * *

She wants to lie here, fall asleep and never wake up.

The sand is surely but slowly ingraining itself into her clothes, and part of her is amazed at how much it feels like home and out of place all at once. But her smile never leaves her face, always mocking the corner of her mouth, tilting upwards; and it seems like her own skin has been starved of the midnight blue that is eternal.

"… missed this." Kurosaki Karin finds herself saying, only barely conscious of the words that are a faraway dream. "I missed this so much." Her hand slowly tries to hold sand and the result is that is slips through her very skin like an hourglass that says time is running out, and with every second that passes, Karin wonders how much of that is true.

Grimmjow snorts and she's made aware of him for the first time in forever. Feels like that, at least. What he's been doing in the meantime is beyond her. Observing, scowling, looking around in distaste; Karin's concentrating on breathing more than anything else. "Of course you did, you crazy bitch." He mutters, and it's louder than the wailing wind. "Once upon a time, you used to live here."

"Once upon a time, Aizen used to live here." Dazed, she sits up, white grains sliding over her palms; but this information doesn't faze either of them. Facts are facts, and facts are dead.

And everything between them is falling apart so seamlessly. After all, it's not like it matters.

Her lips twitch, curving demonically. It's morbid, it's twisted, but she wants to degrade everything in this vicinity. Wants to laugh and cry and pull her hair and just collapse with how much _shit_ she's in.

Then she realizes, as she looks around, that there's someone missing in this pretty picture of death.

"Hey, Grimmjow—" Karin stands up, knees bleeding, cuts scraping, and the isolation suddenly sends a shock to her system. "Where is everybody?"

The Sexta Arrancar only snorts in response; shoulders in a shrug.

It's not as if the answer isn't obvious.

"Guess."

—

Dead. Dead. Dead.

The whole fucking _lot of them._

She only laughs in response, eyes darkening. "Typical. And a fucking stupid question, but whatever. So what happened… after I left?"

It's a fucking understatement to use that word; and both of them know it's the wrong word to use. Yet neither gives a damn; Rin looks up, watching for stars that never appear and he only watches her every move.

"This." He shrugs, because he'd just rather forget the meaningless debacle that was only useful in passing time and building up tension and skewing bloodshed. Gaining more power. Killing more people. All that rot. "Fucking _shinigami_. They made the best of it, while Kurosaki was out taking – stealing—doing whatever the fuck he wanted." His eyes lower as he recalls the event, the bloodshed, the breakdown and stench that only encouraged more and more death and murder and betrayal. "The rest decided to invade and wipe Aizen out." He wonders why she's asking him, if she already knows this; or if she just wants to know his point of view at the time. Maybe she never asked those bastards, never knowing what happened. "It was their fucking wonderful opportunity."

He'd rather just forget about the entire thing because he really doesn't give a damn.

Yet the memories flicker through his mind; a tangerine-haired woman dying alongside the smiley faced snake clown. Tousen being completely bug-splattered. Aizen… well, he kind of zoned out and tried to keep breathing. _Shinigami_ dying, Arrancars dying, it's a full-blown battle of death.

But eventually, it becomes evident: Aizen has lost and the _shinigami_ have won.

Fucking wonderful.

Rin's eyes avert from his, and it's not quite tears, not quite sadness and not quite satisfaction. It's like… wistful nostalgia with a desperate hope that is extinguishing in this very moment. Wetting her lips, she ventures to ask another question. "And what about…" Reluctant, she stops.

And there's something that he doesn't see every day.

_That_ look.

Always with—always concerning—_him._

"Who?" Narrowing his eyes, his muscles tense as he scrutinizes her, closing the distance and nearly touching but not quite. "_Say it._" Anger doesn't even begin to cover it, fizzling through every inch of his skin.

After all, she's just been _dying _to ask since the second she laid her eyes on him.

Because she cares about someone else. It's _always _someone else, and never Grimmjow Jeagerjaques.

Oh, Grimmjow knew. He had known from the fucking start; teeth clenching and grinding. It got on his nerves. And he didn't care. And then he did.

"Alright then." She shrugs, failing to look unruffled and failing as every breath reeks of smothering hope drowning in ebony. "What about _Ulquiorra_?"

It's evident in the way she says it, the way her mouth moves over the syllables, like they're words that fell from heaven. Her eyes may be darker, blacker than blue, and her lips are practically spitting the words out, but the way she says it is like they're produced from fucking _emeralds_.

He doesn't mince words.

Only cackles them as easily as a calamity of crows flapping into the sky.

"Dead. What else?"

The silence that engulfs them could slay so many insignificant Hollows.

Quietly, she asks, curious if he knows the answer, repressing every single flare of _reiatsu_ that roars for revenge. "Who killed him?"

But there's no answer, and he doesn't know. The Pantera Arrancar's lips crush against hers, and it's like she's returning back into that life when this used to mean something selfish.

—

"_Fuck."_ She curses, and Karin is certain that Grimmjow hasn't heard her.

Teeth scrape down her neck, and she's not even sure she wants it to stop.

Eyes flutter, trying to bask in the moment, trying to revive those feeling that existed in that life. That life that should never have been lived. That life was torn apart because the right action was done far too late. Delaying salvation for one person apparently meant that the world was safer that way, in the long run, because it had helped the means to the end. But it felt like all she's doing is shedding skin, and doing nothing to reclaim her way of moving forward.

It… stung.

Knowing that the truth was…

After all, she'd _hoped_. She'd waited; she bade her time, so she might…

Despite everything, Karin had wanted Ulquiorra to live. Surviving all this and strive towards a better purpose.

Because she remembers_,_ she dreams and thinks of him. Even now, though far more distantly. And as horrible as it was to believe, maybe during her entire time, she had depended on him much more than she realized. It's partly because of him—

Grimmjow captures her lips and she doesn't want to think any more.

_But it's_ _**Ulquiorra**__._

And that means more than it should.

It breaks her heart, or what's left of it.

He isn't gentle, the Sexta Espada, as he grabs fistfuls of hair and pulls her close, so close that no air exists between them. Licking her tears away, she doesn't realize the moment when they hit the ground and dust scatters a cloud around them that the old her, the one who spent five years in this prison, is not her any longer.

Karin coughs for air, and that's when it becomes apparent to both of them: she doesn't belong _here_.

She never has. And she never will.

Hands scrabble to push him away, legs and feet kick against him, creating a rift while Karin wipes her mouth against her sleeve.

"Fuck off." Spitting, she scowls, eyes narrowing. "I'm not like that now."

Electric blue eyes only darken, crackling like thunder.

"_Clearly."_

This… isn't how it should be. This is her past. This is the time to stand up and walk away.

Grimmjow shouldn't have rescued her. It was a mistake on her part to follow him.

But, _oh,_ she'd missed it. The delusional sensations that made her float on cloud nine, perceptive of everything and nothing, and where life was constantly set on edge. A current has risen, and she had simply gone with the flow, laughing all the way because it was like a dream entangled so intimately with nightmares. Who were the enemies and who were the allies? The only rule that could truly be believed was _trust nobody._ But she hadn't. She'd trusted Ulquiorra. She'd needed him. She'd _loved_ him.

In those days, he was her anchor. He'd kept her rooted, and kept her secrets; fed her food and slept in her bed. They'd created a bond. And that wasn't something that went away so easily. Somehow, in the dark and twisted path of descent, and her feelings of the past turned askew, what they shared remained pure and strong and something she'd latched onto, desperate for it like oxygen to breathe.

That was then.

This is now.

She's changed, yet again. One year ago, she would have done things differently to the present day.

Before, she was lost, desperate, clinging to whatever motivated her, be it crawling under someone's skin or creating havoc. Now, though it wasn't completely beneath her to do the same, she learnt to have faith, and depend on others. Whether it was fate or destiny, she'd been forced to re-evaluate her actions and use her time differently, and face those emotions that she'd long since forgotten, and swept behind her corridors of spider webs.

And slowly but surely, something had happened. She'd met the boy that once gave her dreams, and somehow, despite her conviction to remain cool and calm and undeterred by however long they kept her in Soul Society, she would leave and never return, she had… once again…

She'd found _meaning_.

Now, the giddiness of excitement is wearing down, and her heartbeat slows, making rational thought her main priority.

Hueco Mundo. Grimmjow. Her.

It's a situation gone badly wrong. Karin isn't supposed to ever come back to this shit place of ashes and dust.

If she stays, then she'd be repeating the same mistakes over and over again. Because truth be told, Grimmjow Jeagerjaques is a poison that sinfully corrodes her blood, and if she lets it, she could revert that that shell of a girl, though she'll enjoy it, every step of the way. And she, dark-haired and pale, shaking ivory bone, doesn't want that. She wants to escape and run and never look back, finding her future with every step she takes and every twist along the way.

Since she's waiting for someone, it changes this entire scene, because whatever that person decides, is how she is going to live.

"What the fuck are you doing?" Red-faced, Grimmjow growls, claws sinking into her skin, not caring if it leaves a mark.

Her head only turns fractionally, the wind pulling strands of her hair, tugging and tearing, trying to persuade her to no avail. Sand flows through her clothes and slides down her skin, trying to weave into every inch and become part of her. Yet everything is meaningless and Karin pays no attention as her eyes harden and her face becomes like a mask, prepared for the uncertain future. But she's very, very still, determined to carry this through; swallowing her fears, she takes a breath, wetting her lips and speaks very clearly.

"I'm going back."

—

"_What?_" It's snarled out, embedded in bitterness and hate, and her flinch is nearly imperceptible. But he catches it, because he's knows far more about her than he'll ever be comfortable to admit.

And he knows that she'll never put him first, because there'll always be someone else. Better than him. Stronger than him. And—even if he could cut them down, it would make no difference. They were a hurricane, fast and furious and forever fucking with each other's mind, blowing out when the dust has finally stilled.

So she changed. But she stayed the same too. That was something which he hated more than anything else.

"You heard me. I'm going back." Her gaze never once falters, speckled in determination. "I never asked for this. Any of this." Her eyes soften, and he wants to wipe that look of her face, far too similar to another relative of hers. "Live, Grimmjow. Have a nice life. But don't expect me to be in it."

"So what?" Spluttering, demanding, hot rage fuels out, tarnishing his complexion and his words begins to bluster. "You're just going to go? Say goodbye? Just like that?"

Karin just stands there, face placid and just… pitying.

But she doesn't say a word, making it far worse.

"I won't let you, okay? _I won't let you!_" He can scream and shout and vent all he wants, but it is so very obvious that it's not making a difference. It doesn't help the matter at hand at all; humiliating himself more and more the longer he stays in her fucking presence. "You stupid, stupid _selfish __**bitch**__!"_

And as he grabs her one last time, bruising and crushing and possession one last time, she whispers, the words burning his mouth—

"_Goodbye."_

—

It's not goodbye.

It isn't.

Not until he says it is.

Not until he cuts her down and mangles her until there's nothing left.

Because that's what she's done to him.

—

She used to be so beautiful, twisted in angles that refracted and broke the mirror. Look at her once, see something, look at her again, see something different. Different shards of brokenness used to draw blood with a single smile, always wider than it should be.

Now, there's none of that allure.

And though she may not be ugly, she sure as hell isn't pretty.

—

He keeps her alive out of spite, but the stone grey sand is covered in blood and flying locks of hair, which stain a cracked half-helmet, and make it dissolve.

That is how he leaves her, nothing more than a painful memory, all those injuries temporary, healing after a while.

—

Inhale. Exhale.

Above all else, keep breathing.

She closes her eyes, trying to be acutely aware of every part of her body, slowly taking time to shift each ligament, no matter how small or insignificant. Just to check that everything is in order and no serious damage has been done. Karin can deal with bruises and cuts and open wounds, so long as they aren't fatal, or her limbs are broken.

"_Fuck."_ She whispers, her shorter locks of hair trying to submerge into the bone white, blood red sand.

Karin's arm hurts, more than the other parts of her body, slicked in blood. Maybe it's broken. Maybe it's strained.

"Damn you to Hell, Jaques." Murmuring those words, she tries to process everything that occurred to her body. No doubt it's the last time she's ever going to call him that. And she knows, deep down, it's okay. Really. Saying goodbye once and for all to this part of her life.

She didn't fight it… just let it happen. Accepted it, because that was her reality now.

It's all right.

Her throat thickens as she mumbles the next words, her able hand scooping sand before letting it pour through her clenched fist. "Goodbye Ulquiorra."

With difficulty, she stands up, gingerly getting to her feet; dominant hand protectively placed on her battered arm, wobbling every few seconds. Her head feels faint, and she makes sure to breathe, never stopping, and taking a break if necessary.

Because she _has_ to go back.

Back to Soul Society.

Back to Hitsugaya Toushirou.

Because Kurosaki Karin had made her choice.

Taking a deep breath, Karin begins to walk.


	20. the castaway

**b u t t e r f l i i e . d r a g o n**

the castaway

"_Don't—"_

* * *

**One year ago.**

A week went by, slowly and painfully, and still there was no change.

Rin—Karin remained in her bed, eyes dead and unseeing, hair limp and twisting like poison, skin as pale as stained snow.

Ulquiorra tried to engage her, while Grimmjow folded his arms and leaned against the walls, simply rolling his eyes. But these days he was scarcely around, no doubt picking fights with other Arrancar just because he could. Live for the challenge. How very like Grimmjow.

These days, he barely visited her.

Blue-black eyes fluttered open, and a flicker of emotion sparked: bitter and lost and oh, so terribly confused. Just like before, and he's unsure whether it's worse than last time, or better. Her vulnerability was evident, her fragility and youth painstakingly obvious.

"Wha…" Her mouth tried to form words, shaping sounds that were not produced. "Ulqui… orra… what…?"

"You've been sick." The Cuarta Espada said simply, repressing any emotions that had been evoked with concern about her being conscious and talking. "Try not to do so in the future."

A small smirk comfortably began to grow. "Right. Sure. Think I can do that."

"Karin." _Talk to me._ Though he wanted to say it, he did not; having to be content with the music of her name, and nothing more.

And yet she understood, her smirk transforming into a sad smile, reminiscent of one who had lost everything.

"I saw him, you know." Her voice lowered, thoughtfully musing over the skirmish. "The _orange-berry._ I saw him and… I just… I just couldn't kill him." She's choking up, tears threatening to fall – and her cold hands tighten on the bed sheet, shaking as she blinks excessively, furiously trying to regain that lost control. Desperately, he wants to dry those eyes, yet he can't do a thing, won't say the right words nor move a muscle. "I don't know why – I just… I just—"

Her tears fall anyway, paving the way through apple white cheeks.

"Karin, it's okay."

Both of them knew it's not. Both were following orders that went terribly astray. Because emotions tethered them and anchored them more than they cared to admit and realized, trying to defy and ward off doubt with little gestures and little comments, trying to remain unfazed as the reality that they knew was being taken apart, piece by piece, all around them.

Bonds existed, twisted and existent, pure and imaginary. Nothing's truly severed, because the emotion, however worn down and begrudged, was there.

Yet she acted as if she hadn't heard him, eyes listlessly drawn sideways, staring into space.

"I thought that was what I wanted. To see him… die by _my_ hands. I was—I'm still so _angry_ at him. I hate him! I fucking _hate_ him! So why… why don't I want him _dead?_ He fucking deserves it." Her voice broke, and Karin retreated into her shell.

That couldn't happen – she was supposed to remain strong. Remain—

Remain like he liked – _loved_ her, how he saw her—not perfect, but flawed. Beautiful, despite her tears, because of her tears, despite the _shit_ and fucked up psychological trauma that Kurosaki Karin had been through and he had done nothing but—

He was the enemy.

He was her friend.

He…

Ulquiorra Schiffer saw her for what she really was.

And so he kissed her, lips crushing against each other to mend a broken heart.

—

He'd take it. The good and the bad. The insane and the lucid. The cursed and the damned. Every single part of her, he would accept.

For the sake of her smile that gleamed in quiet radiance.

He didn't pull away for the longest time; foreheads touching even though their lips were out of reach, just trying how to remember to breathe.

—

The serpent recognized the _reiatsu_ from last time. And the surveillance cameras were now a lot more efficient.

Finally.

After a week and three days, the _ryoka_ boy had arrived. Not alone, but with yet another group of friends. Well, that was alright.

So long as they grabbed Rin-chan and left, then it was all good.

And if they stayed a little longer, then perhaps Aizen may have some fun.

Who knows? The whole thing might bring a smile to his face, having been starved of entertainment for so long. Because this game had come to a close at last – the ploy all but lost.

"Bye-bye." Ichimaru Gin murmured gleefully, letting the silence devour what remaining hours of sanity Kurosaki Karin had left.

Time to let the shadow princess crumble to dust.

—

He didn't talk about it. No. He didn't say anything when he removed himself from contact. He just… refrained from further temptations, as if he was afraid of losing his composure.

And it scared her. Terrified her.

Never mind that her emotions were all out of whack, all over the place; the thing that concerned Kurosaki Karin most was Ulquiorra Schiffer.

She used to have this link, a connection, drawn to him and had woven a web around him, clinging to him until she remembered that both were suffocating in the web of lies. She could stare and unravel his mystery, feign obliviousness while she deciphered the truth, eyes wide, mind calculating. Tease him; entice him, flirt and cuddle. Nothing felt wrong, like pieces of puzzle sliding into place.

Only now did she become aware of the restriction.

With Grimmjow, there was none. With Ulquiorra, there was everything.

The limitation had slowly begun to fray the corner of her smile and her psychosis. Like she was actually going mad, truly, insanely mad; because every time she reached out, he flinched back. Now that a line had been crossed, Ulquiorra spent every second building walls around himself so that she couldn't tear them down.

Yet she did.

With every comment, every look, every near touch that was never quite.

The hypersensitivity towards each other blurred their grip on reality.

Reclining on the bed, hair messy and limbs sprawled, Karin sat up as the door opened, the standard amount of food carried by none other than Ulquiorra, his face always a melancholic picture.

"Oh? It's you. I was beginning to think that you were avoiding me." Arching an eyebrow, she tilted her head, noticing the downhill slope of his jaw, forcibly straining to return a single comment. "At least you were kind enough the bring food. As usual."

Her distaste was evident with the lack of response, but still the robotic routine continued. It bored her, truly.

Ulquiorra shut his eyes briefly, counting to ten. When they opened, slow and steady, a deeper meaning flickered through the sea of emerald – paining her more than she preferred to notice, strangely confused why she wanted to remember that shade of green forever.

"Eat."

"Yeah." A lopsided grin slid onto her face, friendly, grudgingly respecting this new space that was growing between them, his terms, not hers; though she would have given anything to take the distance away. "Of course. A girl's got to eat."

The added note of casualness didn't fool either of them.

"Karin—"

"Yeah?" The food was millimetres away from her mouth, but just by speaking of her name caused her to look up, hopeful, waiting for _something._ Briefly, she wondered how she looked in his eyes.

He sighed once more, and then shook his head, erasing what might have been. "No. Nothing."

"Okay." Disappointed, Karin looked away and resumed eating. "Suit yourself." Her forehead creased, as she was deep in thought, wondering what else was different. Something—

"Something's new." With the food. Not good. Not bad. Just… different. "It tastes different."

"… new recipe." Eventually, Ulquiorra succumbed to opening his mouth, though he tried to focus on something that wasn't her; displeased with disclosing this information to her.

"Oh." Eyelids flutter shut, flutter open, feeling so very surreal. She didn't question it, barely even aware that her voice was softer than she had intended. Blinking again, with dull surprise, she realized that the entire meal had gone.

"Are you alright?" Concern creased his face, and for the longest time, a true smile spread across her face, ecstatic.

"Yeah!" Laughing, Karin stood up, the tray of food clattering to the food, left ignored, as she approached him, the sensation surrounding her becoming more and more like a dream. "I'm fine. I'm good. I'm… perfect."

Her arms twined around his black hair, and he only stiffened, refusing to bolt, refusing to react. _But that was okay_, Karin thought, stoicism wouldn't change a thing to feeling absolutely wonderful. With great care, she closed the distance between them, and kissed him.

It was a chaste kiss. Soft. Nearly sweet. Didn't have to mean a thing; just another quirk of her affection that's never occurred before.

Because he froze for a second, before bringing his hands around her back, seizing her and pulling her closer like a necessity to live. His mouth moved with hers and suddenly, his hands were in her hair, tumbling every lock, every tress, every curl. And in that moment, when her nails dug into his skin, did Karin realize that he'd been wanting this for a very long time, longer than she'd realized, and he's hungry for more, almost ravenous and there's an animalistic pleasure inside her that enjoyed knowing that.

Trembling, both clamped against each other, refusing to let go, losing themselves – until the spell shattered at the invisible strike of twelve. And Ulquiorra pushed her away, her mind confused, her mouth left open, slightly parted. He didn't move, merely gazed with heavy eyelids.

And a tragedy was reflected in those darkened jade eyes.

Yet he slipped away, like the moving trails of sand scattered by the howl of the wind, the door not shutting completely behind him.

—

She wondered why her mouth felt so inexplicably dry.

Swaying, her hands brushed against the wall for support, Karin moved, finding difficulty with walking. Her hand reached for the door, and with the lightest touch, it widened, inviting her to explore the castle once more.

Maybe she'd find an exit, and touch the moon.

—

Four kisses.

That's all they've ever had.

The first, _her_ first kiss, was wasted when she tried to escape – using her practically nonexistent womanly wiles upon him, catching him off guard to run away and lose his presence. It hadn't worked. She didn't expect it to. But it was worth a shot.

Their second kiss, was when she was finally allowed to see Las Noches without being locked up and guarded, though he remained by her side. It was an impulse thing – a moment of jubilant joy and nothing could stop her from her excitement. It hadn't meant to happen, but it did. But that time, she didn't run away, merely set herself on the ground and threw sand into the breeze, waiting for rain.

Third kiss, a reason to continue to live.

Fourth kiss, (and wasn't that ironic?), a desire that overwhelmed everything else.

Her feet glided like silk, ghostlike, and Karin wondered if that passageway had stayed the same, or if her luck could make the walls obey her will.

—

Hueco Mundo hadn't changed much.

It was more… shimmery than she remembered, and the sand seemed full of diamonds, but… that didn't matter.

"—_in."_

Blue eyes blinked, her sludge brain lethargically processing the fact that someone other than her was speaking.

"—_in!"_

Calling—someone was calling—a name—a person—a place—the pieces of information meshed together jaggedly like something incomplete. Behind her – did Grimmjow stand? In front of her – was someone there? The details didn't add up. And sand storms surrounded everything.

Then she noticed, the figures emerging from the dusty clouds.

And her head began to pound, no longer trapped in a dream, but screaming like a car crash into reality.

Orange-berry. _Ichi-nii_.

This was how it was supposed to be, the right action that she'd been waiting for, while her patience sank into despair, and how she dreamed of this moment, again and again, before resentment and spite and hate sunk its ugly claws into her skin.

He'd finally arrived to take her back, five years too late.

—

_Fuck._

Her head hurt, migraines coming like waves in rapid succession, one after the other with no time to breathe. Her sight was gradually becoming blurry, and she was mildly conscious of the fact that she might possibly be swaying, losing control of her balance, so very, very unstable.

"No. _No!_" Screaming because she had to vocalize her anguish somehow, it's only later that she realized that her breathing was becoming heavier, and every other limb felt like falling apart. "No, I won't _let _you! I _won't_—"

"Karin." He was right in front of her now, and she could barely even collapse to the floor and try to crawl back, shock anchoring her to continue to stand, fixated on the same spot.

She shook her head, hoping that the motion would dissuade any heard words uttered from his mouth. She didn't want to listen. Didn't want to—

"It wasn't meant to be like this! You were supposed to—"

Oh, where should she even _begin_ about the what-ifs, and maybes and how it was planned to be. It's far too fucking late for that, but it didn't stop her from persisting.

And all he said was _Karin,_ as if reaching out to her _now_ was enough.

It wasn't.

"It's not fair. _It's not fair. It's __**not fair**_!" She was so painfully aware that she was retreating into a childlike state of mind, and it rippled through her body as she shrank and backed away, kicking specks of sand just so she could move away; feeble distractions at trying to fend off her… her brother.

"You're not supposed to be here!" Her nails sank into her skin, because it felt like she was shouting at mirrors, with a lack of reflection. "So don't…"

_Kami,_ her _head…_

"Don't—"

_Don't try to rescue me!_

_Don't try to save me!_

_Don't even bother—_

Everything was splitting, dividing and spliced away to bleak obscurity; to ability to hold on too horrible to hold on to this reality known as life. There must have been something to make her _act_ like this—the reason why everything felt like a dream and everyone was slipping away and why, why her thoughts were too tired to think any more and how her arms and legs wouldn't function the way they were supposed to. How—

… was the food _poisoned_?

… did he… did Ulquiorra know?

… was that the reason… the reason… the reason why he…

This just proved one thing: nobody was worth trusting because they'd stab people in the back, once they tired of them, or their usefulness had run out. And Kurosaki Karin was but petty entertainment. She'd let herself be lured there, promising that she'd hold out, thinking that she wouldn't give up… and yet – life dictated a different path for her.

Funny thing about life.

It wasn't fair that often and mainly it was a chance in a million that people recognized life as a 'fair game', or even a moment of happiness.

Most of the time, it just felt like shattering into darkness.

—

Kurosaki Ichigo caught his little sister before she hit the ground.

Though the look of tarnished torment was the same as when she was awake. Still pale, still with a skinny frame, and still with long dark hair, rippling away from the very fabric of death; it seemed like she suffered whether she was conscious or not.

But she was alive: chest rising up and down.

And that was something.

Big brothers were born first to protect the siblings that followed.

So, now—now he'd protect her and take her way from this fucking awful place.

It was for the best.

—

The timing was perfect – that's how Soul Society had seen it.

What better way to take Aizen down than strike at the opportune moment?

The substitute _shinigami_ would create a diversion, drawing the attention away, whilst he 'rescued' his sister. It was different to last time—Kurosaki Ichigo had said—this was his _sister._ His _little sister._ She'd been brainwashed, that's why she was part of the attack—

_She's not the enemy. She's my family._

Grudgingly, they abided with his request, deciding to take advantage of it; disrupting Aizen's plan like a storm out of hell. They'd get him, destroy the Arrancars in the process, and finally give them their punishment.

Now they were here, and a slight change had occurred: Kurosaki Karin was free to leave, abandoned by Aizen and his high and mighty army, causing the surprise attack to come to a standstill. But that didn't stop them.

Even though Aizen had handed over the girl to them, why waste the chance?

Aizen Sousuke had been left unscathed for far too long.

That was how Yamamoto-Genryuusai Shigekuni-soutaichou decided, and the rest of the Gotei Thirteen agreed, aiming for the kill.

—

There was a girl in Kurosaki's arms. And Hitsugaya Toushirou could not say for certain if she was dead or merely unconscious, her entire figure limp and enclosed within Kurosaki's tight grasp.

He wondered, so faintly, more like a passing thought that's a candle in the darkness, seconds before being blown out, who the girl was.

If she was alive.

If she was all right.

But that was before he turned and did not look back, joining the fray that would mark Aizen's defeat.


	21. life, healing

**b u t t e r f l i i e . d r a g o n**

life, healing

"_Hey."_

* * *

_Fuck._

Karin's cell is empty, black bars broken, crushed into shards. The walls have crumbled; the chair is in pieces… nothing has been left unscathed.

And Grimmjow's _reiatsu_ is all over the place.

What the fuck happened?

Did he take forcibly? Or did she want to go, like her dark eyes always implied, shining in the suffocating shadows, taking the first chance she got?

Had she fought? Screaming in his face, that it's been too long – but not as long as five years – or did he just smirk whilst she gave a pretty smile, returning to his embrace?

His hands rakes through his hair, wondering what had occurred during Grimmjow's arrival and departure.

Kurosaki Ichigo had failed her… once again. But this was _different_ to before, where he had no idea where she was. Now, even if it led to a dead end, he had a clue. And a single clue was better than nothing. He would find her; seek her out, hoping that their paths would cross. And then, when they'd finally meet – he'd ask her, after all this time, what she wanted most.

If he could, he'd grant it.

Because, despite everything that's happened… he still cares. He's always cared—but he just hasn't been able to find a way to show it.

Every time he tries, Karin turns away, refusing to listen, mocking his attempts, looking bored and dull and uninterested until rage flares in like a storm, negative emotions roaring like bolts of lightning, striking again and again and again until he's absolutely drained of anything, guilt swallowing him completely.

But Yuzu's right. Rukia's right.

He can't hold on to these feeling of guilt forever; he should start acting like her big brother again, make more of an effort until he gains her trust back, no matter how long it takes, or how reluctant Karin is to have faith in him—maybe, maybe then…

There's always a chance. There's always hope. So long as he believes and _acts_ upon those beliefs.

And thus, Kurosaki Ichigo begins to run.

—

It might be luck. It might be fate. It might be neither of them.

But whatever it is, Kuchiki Rukia will always find Kurosaki Ichigo in his direst situation, something always leading her back to him.

"Ichigo! Where are you going?"

It's thanks to chance that she sees him out of the corner of her eye.

Skidding to a halt, Ichigo stops and turns, determination written plainly on his face, all he says is this:

"Karin's gone."

Conflicting emotions collide, but she suppresses it: because this is Ichigo's decision, and she is here to advise and direct him. Be there, but not smother. Though sometimes she can't help it, that extra dose of violence needed for emphasis and pushing him into the right direction.

Now doesn't seem to be one of them.

"_What?"_

—

He breathes out, slowly exhaling. Relates the story: about how Karin's cell is completely destroyed and his little sister is nowhere in sight. And if people are looking, then they haven't found her—

"I can't… I can't _lose_ her, Rukia." She _has_ to understand that. "Not again."

"Ichigo…" Her blue are like the ocean, fathomlessly deep; in a second of perfect clarity, he appreciates the colour of her eyes and how clearly he can read the emotions shown.

"I want to go after her. Chase her down. I want to be her big brother." The truth is that he's always found it hard to let go. That's why he's so overprotective and projects his anxiety on others. "But what if—"

"Do you _ever_ learn?" Her midget sized hands push him back, as her eyes narrow into annoyance. "I thought we were past this! Quit doubting yourself, Ichigo. The moment you do, everything goes downhill; and though I am quite prepared to push you back up that hill with pictures of awesome cute—"

"I think you mean _awful—_" He mutters.

One slap later, and Rukia is continuing, heeding no attention to his previous comment.

The mark on his face begs to differ.

"—_bitch."_

She ignores that too.

"You can't fall off a cliff every time this concerns your sister and she fights you and screams at you and sneers and acts so ungrateful. I know! Okay? I know! But sometimes, you damn fool; you have to suck it up, bear with it – and get past it. If you could listen to yourself, you'd tire of the excuses you've been making. And maybe some of it was your fault, but some of it was hers too! Both of you have made mistakes, and it's up to both of you to fix it – however the solution turns out. Whether you extend the bough or she breaks it; whether she chooses something different, and you are against it—they're your choices, and the consequences that follow." Her hand encloses around his _shihakushou_, and the proximity is almost too close for comfort, but she continues, unyielding. "Accept it. Move on. Ichigo – I…" Her eyelashes flutter shut, and she takes a moment to compose herself. "… whatever you do, I'll be with you. Every step of the way. Never forget that."

Kuchiki Rukia means this. And he's always known the truth in her words, and the unending faith in him, even if at times, he can scarcely believe that he deserves it. She is alight and illuminating and beautiful is such a pale word in comparison to her.

_Fight for the cause that has the most importance to you. Make sure that every step is worth it._

_And never feel alone._

That's what she's saying, that's what he understands.

His frown fades and twitches into a smile; one which she heartily returns. But neither flinches nor averts their eyes when the moment lasts too long, absorbing and indulging in it for every second, it feels so natural and they are completely at ease.

"Ichigo…" Grip lightens, but he still senses the weight of her fingers through the material and pressed against his chest.

Her eyes are so many different colours, and with their intensity, it's a kaleidoscope of perfect azure.

Suddenly, it's so easy, so simplistic and he wonders why he's never done this before.

He narrows the distance between them, until finally—

—there is none.

—

For a giant, he sure is the perfect match. The thought flickers through her mind as her arms encircle his neck, making her lips curve.

It lasts too short. It lasts too long. Bittersweet and clumsy and she's never resisted what she's wanted all along.

… so she laughs as she pulls away, hysterically in laughter and feeling fantastically happy. Because no matter how idiotic Kurosaki Ichigo can be, he can always bring a smile onto her face. Doesn't really care much for the slightly confused expression on his face, it's adorable, but the details hardly matter.

"You damn fool. Why the hell didn't you do this sooner?" Oh, Rukia is so very tempted to slap him so he can kiss her again.

"Shut up!" Red-faced, he snaps back. "Why didn't you?"

… she has no answer for that; heat rushing to her cheeks.

Thus, the only logical conclusion is to silence his thoughts with another kiss.

—

"Rukia? Thank you."

"Any time."

—

Her grin remains on her face for a long time, before it slowly fades, her attention faltering for one moment – as she looks over his shoulder and sees—

It can't be.

"Ichigo." Deep breaths, easy does it.

"What?" His expression changes to one of puzzled concern. Then pain. Possibly because she's holding on to him too tightly.

She chooses Ichigo's happiness over her selfishness. No matter how much dislike Rukia has for Karin for crawling under her skin and taunting her; Karin is, first and foremost, Ichigo's family. And Ichigo worries, Ichigo cares, Ichigo loves Karin so, so much that it breaks his heart.

And so, with a calm voice, after a pause, Kuchiki Rukia says:

"Turn around."

—

A figure slowly approaches, a dark silhouette in contrast with the red stream of light that is known as dusk.

_Fucking hell._

It's—it's Karin.

She's back, she returned – and Grimmjow is nowhere to be seen. Yet somehow, Kurosaki Ichigo can't believe it, as he races to her.

For some reason, it doesn't feel real. But—it is.

Karin is _here._

But—

"_Kami,_" Ichigo breathes out, stilled by disbelief. "What happened?"

Her hair—long black locks of ebony, that once reached her waist, have disappeared – all that's left is a jagged pattern, clumps of hair with an unlevelled line. Almost reminiscent of how it used to be – back when she was ten and ready to take on the world with a sideways smirk and sardonic remark. Cuts cover her, the stench of dried blood clinging to her body, crusting her clothes – ripped and sandy. And—_fuck_—is her arm—is it broken?

Did Grimmjow—did he fucking _mangle_ her?

"Ichi-nii." She murmurs, a vague smile spreading, almost thoughtfully on her face. "I'm fine."

Dark blue eyes refuse to meet brown, sliding away, head downcast.

"Fine."

Then her knees buckle, and he remembers that Karin's been lying for most of her life that she has no other alternative to it. Putting up a brave front can only last so long, before all she becomes a mechanic doll repeating words that don't mean a thing. Hurt, pain, emotion, she has tried to ignore them because they terrify her with honesty.

"I'm… fine…"

Her voice continues in a monotone voice, even as he catches her, arms wrapping around her, not saying a word.

And Karin does not fight, nor shy from his contact, desperately seeking it out, though she remains motionless.

"No, you're not." He says, and like a mannequin, her smile dies with the truth. His little sister, at this moment, is so very fragile and broken inside his arms, almost to the point that he's the only thing holding her together. "But you're going to be. I promise."

She does not flinch or look away, but her eyelids droop and she slumps against him.

And silently, oh, so silently, she weeps.

—

How long she stayed there, Kurosaki Karin does not know. Her memory seems unable to recollect the moment where her mind felt too heavy and the only logical response was to shut her eyes. And when she wakes, there's a sense of light-headedness, as well as being in the most comfortable bed for a long time.

"Mm…" Wriggling around on the bed, the girl realizes that she's actually been bandaged up. And this isn't in her cell. "… where's Ichigo?"

"Glad to see you're finally awake." A bored voice grumbles, before waiting long enough to answer her question. "Not here, though not for his lack of trying. Unohana… well, Unohana is a _very_ persuasive captain."

"Sounds like an understatement." Commenting, she can't help but smile, having missed this voice, this company, for quite some time.

He doesn't reply to that, for his own recuperating health, Karin assumes. It's best not to badmouth Fourth Division _in_ the Sick Bay.

"How long have I been here?" It's more mumbled, but drowsiness settles upon her, dissolving into her skin: Karin would still like the answer.

"A week. Maybe more." There's a chance he's lying, but his tone makes her smile, always gruff.

"What about you?"

"Longer. Definitely longer. Still, it's nice to have someone to talk to pass the time." He admits, sounding a little embarrassed about it.

"Oh yeah?" Lashes entwine, breath evens out, and though he talks, his relaxing tone lets her find peace once more with the realm of dream.

—

"Hey." She smiles, as soft locks slant down her neck as she shifts to face him.

"Hey." It's faint, and a tad annoyed, but it's there: the barest hint of a smile. "Not going to fall asleep on me, are you?"

"Only if you get too boring." Grinning, she replies, all too easily. After she stretches her limbs, testing out her capacity, she asks him, laced with quiet concern. "So how are you?"

"Good." Hitsugaya Toushirou nods, seemingly satisfied with that answer, before adding. "I'm better than before."

"What happened?" Karin has never truly understood his behaviour. One moment, he looks at her as if he's a stranger, the next, he's bursting to say something that doesn't seem to add up, another, he's treating her diffidently, a different moment, and he's almost heart wrenchingly intimate… before it all goes back to square one. Distant, crazy, lucid, tender. A pick and mix, right time, wrong occasion, always a tumult on how she had to act with him.

"I was drugged. It… messed me up." That's an understatement. But she's flattered that he trusts her enough to tell her. "But I," Toushirou swallows, apple bobbing, "I remember now."

"Um, what?" She doesn't understand – he's being far too vague. "Is this something to do with you and those pills?"

If he thought she hadn't noticed, then he was an idiot. Pill-popping every second of the day. She'd kind of assumed they were aspirin. Or something. Although, at the rate he had them, judging it to be 'aspirin' was very suspicious.

"The drugs were the pills. They kept my memory suppressed, Karin." Exhaling, Hitsugaya Toushirou explained calmly. "I suppose the previous soutaichou didn't want me to screw up, and decided that erasing part of my memory was the best way to keep the pressure off, warding away distractions. Guess he didn't count on the addiction that developed."

"Huh." Her eyebrows furrow, as she absorbs the information, processing it methodically. And, no matter how she tries to view it, it leads to the same conclusion every single time. "That sounds seriously fucked up."

"… he was an old man." It's not much for an offered excuse, but it'll have to do.

"_Still."_ Lips twitch, but she can't really do anything about it.

"It wasn't his fault. Truthfully, some of it was mine. In order to survive and cope, I repressed a lot of things. Just buried them because I needed to forget. The good, the bad, everything. I just had to." All he wanted to do was focus on Aizen. All the hate, all the thoughts of revenge, however reckless they may be… needed to be directed at Aizen Sousuke. "I think I would have remembered everything on my own, given time. But…"

"I'm sorry." Words can be so meaningless sometimes.

"Don't be." He rolls his eyes, smirking somewhat.

"So, you remember _everything?_" Mind enquiring, Karin wonders how much she can tease him with the absence of recollection; abruptly changing the subject, into much more light-hearted grounds.

"No. Not everything. But… enough." Hesitant, aquamarine eyes become wistful, discernable eagerness to remember.

"Mm?" She sits up, with difficulty. Karin wants to savour every expression that flickers onto his face. "Enough? How do you define enough?" And now her grin widens, deliciously comfortable with this cheerful banter. "Okay, do you remember that time we…"

"What?" Is he… scared?

"You know." Gazing to the left, adding a little nudge, a wink, a suggestive eyebrow rises. "… with the…" Karin gulps, barely able to say it, words choking on her tongue. So she lowers her voice, and widens her eyes, scanning the area around her beforehand to make sure that they're not being overheard. "On your desk."

The look on his face is _priceless._

"_What?"_ Maybe the correct term is panic. Extreme paranoia. "What did we do?"

Taking a breath, Karin looks up, unable to look into his eyes anymore. If she did, then the whole thing would come undone. "… let's just say that after it happened, I doubt any body would look at you in the same way again." She coughs, hastily adding. "But I enjoyed every second of it. And so did you, which is why it happened consecutively, night after night after night…"

His face is rapidly turning into a rich shade of plum. Though it's quite nice on the eyes, it doesn't really suit his snow white hair.

The power of suggestion and imagination is such a delightful thing.

—

Sometimes they speak, deep whispers into the night, when the sky is almost midnight and tantalizing to see. Sometimes they remain in silence, resting because they've thought too much and talked too much.

It's everything and anything and yet somehow it's not enough.

But more days than not, Karin is finding herself stare out that window, the one that entices her with the promise of dawn.

—

"… I used to find it so easy, you know?" She confides in him, wondering he has her trust? "To believe in one thing. To follow one thing. When the world went wrong, all I had was that… and it kept me sane."

Why? Why does she want to cry and cry and breathe him in and be part of him until they can no longer be distinguished as themselves?

Why does she just want to melt and be the salve to his wounds?

Why is Kurosaki Karin so head over heels in love with him, despite everything that happened and caused her to _distort_ everything that is her_?_

She is not that ten-year-old girl, who hopes and wishes and waltzes with romantic footballs. She is not the fifteen-year-old girl who rages and screams and swings her sword with blind revenge.

But he listens, and he advises. He holds her hand, and pushes her to her limits, catching her as she falls. He soothes her, murmuring words that calm her down, making her see sense, taking care to watch out for her, and despite protesting how reckless she is… he never… he never lets her feel alone. He's always there when she needs it.

And she will never tire of his eyes.

During this time, Hitsugaya Toushirou has made her accept certain things, and let her settle into her skin. Treats her like an equal, and he does care about her, in his own way. And it's not just her; he's grown, surely. He's lightened up, learnt not to be so serious, as he grumbles and moans, and teases her in his somewhat dour manner.

"But…"

"Yeah. I know." He stops and stares at her, piercing so much more than just the soul. "But you can't just live for one purpose. Live for people, hope and dreams, of the future and what might be."

He understands her, and pushes her, improving her limit.

And she likes who she is when she's with him.

So she smiles, not fighting the flush spreading on her cheeks. "Mm. Scarily hard, isn't it?"

"I have no idea of what you're talking about."

Lips twist into a smirk, and Karin mimes airplanes with the latest food.

—

Yet still, she will not allow herself to see Ichigo. And neither does Toushirou let Hinamori visit.

They are hidden from the rest of the world, wishing to be left alone.

—

"I'm still waiting, you know. For your answer."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"Okay."

"What? You're not going to tell me?"

"… nah. It'll give you something to look forward to."

"Ah, when all this is over. All right then, I'll wait a little longer then."

—

It's not here yet, but it's a sure thing coming: a true smile and a real laugh.

—

And so they sleep.

And so they mend.

Resolving to find a bearable future before it's too late.


	22. the judgement

**b u t t e r f l i i e . d r a g o n**

the judgement

"_You really think so?"_

* * *

**One year ago.**

She was okay.

Inhale. Exhale. Breathe and remember that.

_She was okay, safe, rescued._

It was a mantra that he had to whisper to himself, watching her with the intent of never looking away. He'd separated from her briefly when Unohana Retsu asked to examine Karin, a standard check, the Fourth Division taichou assured him; but other than that, he'd never left her side.

_Unconscious, but in good hands._

And this time—this time, he'd make things right.

—

Karin woke up in cage.

No, it was a prison cell, with bars and everything that a prison might have. But it felt like a cage, the walls crushing her as they closed in with every breath she took.

Trying to refrain from movement, she remained still, propped against the wall, trying to regain her bearings.

Where was she?

Not Hueco Mundo. There wasn't a room quite like this—and when she had the chance to explore nooks and crannies. There was no trace of familiar—

_Oh_.

Someone was here.

Dark eyes flickered up, and a lazy smile, entirely humourless, spread onto her face. Head tilted, dark locks falling like a masquerade, shielding parts of her face, obscuring the hate that had inevitably appeared on her face, as calm and composed, if slightly bitter, as Karin tried to appear.

But this was new.

_This_ had never happened before – but then, there had never been a reason to.

She was on the floor, sitting, calm and blasé, lest the cracks in her façade began to appear – while her visitor stood up, agitation and frustration and belated care mingling on his face.

"Hello, _orange-berry."_ Her voice sounded monotone, uninterested, because she had given up on him long, long ago. "What brings you here… in oh so long?" She shifted, almost to play in jest to show him that, like a child, she was making room and getting comfortable for 'story time'. "Why, I was beginning to think that you no longer cared about me. Well. How about that. Guess I was right after all."

She would throw this sham of a rescue in his face.

She would act like a bitch.

She would never be grateful for this goddamn act of righteousness.

Because Kurosaki Ichigo did not deserve anything less than that.

—

His brown eyes remained shut as he breathed out, exerting control over his face as he tried to internalize the shock. Even without the presence of the Arrancars, she still acted like something morbid, a corpse that had pushed up daisies as it longed for air that might warm cold lungs. Snide and cutting, listless and empty, she sat like a broken doll left on a shelf.

Even now, horrified at her behaviour, he still believed that he'd done the right thing.

He'd saved her. Too late. And what was the cost – eternal bitterness? It didn't seem a dear price to pay, so long as she would improve from that white pallor in time and develop the vivacity that she held, once in good grace and a little reckless nature, now entangled in something a little sinister, intricately woven with the darkness.

"Don't say that."

The words felt heavy on his tongue, though he himself was convinced that everything she said was merely an act; repelling each act of kindness because she had had to live in a cruel world were mercy did not exist. Ishida Orihime had told him, when he'd ask, a strangle look passing on her face, as if she was unsure of so many things. An odd dream…

It had to be.

But the dream was over. And if she had woken up, it was another matter entirely.

Loneliness had driven her to cynicism, and as she tilted her head, bones clicking back into place, ebony locks falling like a waterfall, there was a part of her, Ichigo could tell, that thoroughly relished the atmosphere that she created, brewing mayhem with a few words and well placed gestures.

It only took a glimpse to notice that sparkle that shone so brilliantly, basking in nothing more than numb anarchy.

Her fascination seemed almost detached, and inhumane; for a brief second while her jaw twitched, moving back and forth, a reflexive action, it almost seemed like she was studying him and analysing his very essence, the connection of their family no longer part of who she had become.

There were no feelings of love written on her face; and her mask finally appeared perfected, nothing discernable.

"Really?" Placid and cool, she blinked, and began to speak, as though she hadn't heard him and was merely voicing her thoughts to ghosts.

—

"How can you be so sure?" She asked quietly, and though she remained absolutely still there's a dangerous quiver in the air, trembling into the opposite of equilibrium. "How can you think that… _this_ is for the best?"

A cell. Alone. With him.

She's chained like a prisoner.

And she hadn't done any thing wrong except get caught on the wrong side of the war.

Brainwashed. Manipulated. Inverting everything and twisting it just for the sake of being able to bear it.

Her displeasure was understandable, but Kurosaki Ichigo couldn't always fight Soul Society, ending up with abiding their orders, rather unhappily, once in a while.

But now, when she spoke, eerie silence snuck upon his skin and held him tight, enraptured in the fatal unravelling. He couldn't say a word, only able to listen to the words of loathing that she spoke, her intention to unnerve him dissolving into the very marrow.

"Why did you save me?" Her eyes were cold and dead and empty, and something crackled in the distance: fire demons delightfully happy with this state of chaos bubbling beneath the surface. Usually her anger was concealed, but there was not a drop of patience in her blood. "Did you do it because it was the right thing to do, or because you felt _guilty_?" Venom laced itself so enjoyably with the last word, derivative of his heroism.

Silence stretched over them like a harbinger crashing into a falling star.

He barely had time to catch his breath before she entwined more malicious melodies to her spell.

"And why are you here? Because quite clearly, you have nothing to say to me. And I have nothing to say to you. Oh, by all means, believe that you are the hero. That you can save everyone. That you are not to blame for everything that happens in the whole world. But know this. You didn't save _me._"

Too late.

_Too late._

It echoed off the walls and the shiver of her laughter, mockery sending spiders scattering somewhere far away.

"Whatever happens… I won't forgive you. No matter what you say, what you do, whatever might occur during this… place. I will _never_ forgive you."

This was crystal clear, burning in the silence that raged between them.

"Remember that, Ichi-nii. If nothing else."

And when she grinned ever so slightly, it's just as scathing and mocking without the full-faced smile that he'd seen so long ago.

"Because, Ichi-nii, how can _you_ be so sure that _I'm_ still _your_ sister?" Her tongue ran over her lips, and the moment only lasted for a second: but there stood a monster, created by destruction and instability, cackling at the world in drunken madness, baring her teeth at him.

"Karin—"

Two _shinigami_ coughed to get his attention, and when his gaze diverted from her to face them, Karin stood up, slowly, as she was more skeleton than flesh.

"Sorry to intrude, Kurosaki-san. But the court would like to give Kurosaki Karin her trial for assisting Aizen Sousuke in the War." One mumbled while the other just completely averted meeting either person.

"Trial?" The word sounded strange on her lips, subtly twisted by minute angles. "Is this an act of penance? Or… do you really think that you're being kind and that this is for the best." Condescension dripped from every nuance, distaste evident. "Kurosaki Karin. Your little sister. Safe and sound in this madhouse, transferred from one asylum to another. I'll be protected here. I'll be safe. I'll get better. Isn't that _right_?" Her eyes never left his, fathomless in astringent amusement. "You really think so?"

—

It's that moment when every ideal thought was ripped to shreds.

Only, Kurosaki Karin didn't say a thing as she passed him. An intake of breath, a glitter of malice, an upturned smirk – gestures that should have strengthened his resolve to make sure she'd—

But then she reached out, initiated contact, fingers brushing ever so lightly against his skin, before flinching away, snatched by some sort of abhorrence.

And that broke something; a spiralling descent of doubt beginning to start.

—

… it's almost like the movies. People talk, curse, condemn, mutter and do all kinds of uninteresting things that do nothing to pass the time.

The _orange-berry_ fought on her behalf, pleading eyes at everybody – the sheer amount of _pathetic_ making her lips curl. He was the most 'interesting' spectacle, Karin supposed, chin resting on her fist, dark hair obscuring half her face.

The dark room didn't impress her, or the 'judges' who demanded answers in depth, and were visibly growing frustrated with her lacklustre responses.

Instead, a plan grew and formed in her mind, retreating into her own world.

Depending on things went; this whole 'solution' could work to her advantage.

All she had to do was wait, and see what the verdict turned out to be.

—

"Kurosaki Karin… we have decided that you shall repent for your crimes. You shall not suffer the death penalty, on account of the… circumstances that this predicament arose. Understanding that most of these actions were forced against your will, the severity of the situation has been lessened." The judge paused, taking a deep breath to compose whatever he wanted to say next. "But you are now a _shinigami_ and we have to be mindful of that. Since you were… turned by Aizen, we are curious about the extent of your prowess, we are going to enrol you in our Academy, monitoring your progress. However, you will always be guarded and watched, wherever you are – so no trouble can be caused."

"… sure." A humourless smile twitched. "Just tell me I'm not staying here for the rest of my life."

The judge looked miffed. _Good._ He tried to resolve it by clearing his throat.

Attempting it didn't exactly work, Karin thought. More like it made him dig deeper holes, becoming more ruffled.

"There is the alternative of being studied and examined by Kurotsuchi Mayuri… but we were opposed to that idea. Some more than others."

But she stood a little straighter and acted as if what he said next was of great relevance.

"You will stay here for one year. In that one year, you will have to prove that you are not a threat to Soul Society, and make no trouble or discord among us. If, provided you stay to your word – as you claim, you are not _them_, and are not, in fact, dangerous as so many would like to believe, then leniency will be granted and we shall let you go free. Whether you choose to remain here or leave is of no concern to us, unless you wish to enlist."

The hammer banged on the table, the judgement complete, her sentence final.

Desperately, she tried to resist the urge to laugh, teeth pressing down hard on her lips as her shoulders shook; unable to help it.

Because this was fucking _perfect._

—

"Karin." Ichigo called her name, and a twinge of dislike flared up inside her. She'd never realized how much she hated him for saying her name like that, as if she was a _lost cause,_ something to be _pitied_ as if… as if…

"What do you want?" Cold and callous, she refused to finish the thought.

"Did you mean it? What you said?" Everything about him was fervently hoping she wasn't. But what was he talking about – the court trial or before?

Thoughtful, she bit her lip, musing on what she would have to say to get him out of her sight.

"Every word. I'm never going to forgive you. I will never stop hating every inch of your guts. I'm unhinged, _orange-berry._ And I doubt that you will fix me, when clearly, you can't even get yourself together. I mean seriously, take a good look at yourself, and ask yourself this: are you happy?_ Do you like what you see?_ Is everything as clean cut as you want it to be? Well, maybe I shouldn't judge. I mean, my life is being panned out quite nicely." She shrugged, willing to let it go for now, since the words would eat up his mind later on.

"Do you regret it?"

"I did what I had to do. To save them, I had to become what I am today." Kurosaki Karin had no qualms about that. There's no doubt in her mind: to save Yuzu and her old man, she needed to accept Ulquiorra's offer. "But… I regret what _you_ did. Long before this started. If you hadn't—"

"—_you_ would have _died._ I did it to save you. Save my family."

"—_if _you hadn't become a _shinigami_, this mess wouldn't have started. So, in a way, I'm just a repercussion of your actions." Calmly, she continued, not paying attention to his interruption. She was numb to the very core, but what she spoke was the truth.

She didn't regret her actions, but his.

And it seemed that Ichigo was the reverse.

He didn't regret his actions, but hers.

"So I guess this is where we stand then, two strangers with nothing more in common than a name."

And she stepped out into the burning sunlight.

—

Her skin felt refreshed, invigorated, as the light basked in her skin and the wind blew through her scalp, making her hair shimmer.

For a second, she let herself drink it all in, eyes flickering shut, blocking out all the sound of silence and the watching eyes that explored and examined and scrutinized every piece of her, as she continued to walk forward, head lowered like a girl who'd been shamed.

She wondered if the audience thought that the pretty act was appropriate; though she hardly cared.

And so she stopped, gauging their reaction, searching for a certain someone.

Kuchiki Rukia, perhaps? Was she shocked at what the middle child of the Kurosakis' had become?

After all, without her, none of this would be possible. She was, if not more so, to blame as well.

It didn't really matter, but it was an entertaining thought.

And—

_Ah. Look who is._

Her angel of ice. Her dragon, winged savour. The boy of her dreams.

Hitsugaya Toushirou.

She had a plan, to see him once more and tell him the extent of her feelings. When that happened, she realized that all she was doing was clinging to illusions. And that broke her heart.

But now, this was different.

Before, she was like a caterpillar stuck in chrysalis. Now, she knew what to do, wings growing and breaking the cocoon, slowly, like a murmur of a shadow foreshadowing a storm.

Kurosaki Karin would go to the Soul Society Academy, remaining focused on her goal and let nothing deter her from being a model pupil. Show them she was not a threat, while she bided her time and waited. After all, if the occasion arose, she could always manipulate it to 'tweak' circumstances and let things be not as they appeared.

But she would continue to be meek and humble and not stir any trouble during that one year, eagerly anticipating her sentence to be over.

And then she would go and not turn back.

Leave.

Forever.

Because she didn't belong here, and that place—that place was out there.

—

Karin wanted no part of Soul Society.

It wasn't who she was; and she just hadn't adjusted into believing that this was the 'right' side.

Maybe one day, but certainly not today.

All the same, she doubted it.

—

So she stared, gazing into his eyes, wonderfully, wonderfully aquamarine and looked away, exhaling into a sigh.

Beginning to walk forward, the middle child of the Kurosakis decided that she would not let Hitsugaya Toushirou interfere with her heart.

Not this time.


	23. life, anew

**b u t t e r f l i i e . d r a g o n**

life, anew

"_Where to?"_

* * *

Closing her eyes, Kurosaki Karin sighs, hand tangled in her hair, shifting locks out of her eyes.

So, after eventually recuperating, she's finally returned… _here_.

Her lovely little shack of a cell, rebuilt even though Grimmjow Jeagerjaques had been so kind to knock it all down.

It's been a long and lonely path, and still, the end doesn't seem to be in sight.

But it's coming.

Like an hourglass, the sand devouring her whole, Karin knows that it's coming.

After all, it's only a matter of time.

And she is so very weary of this slow burning suffocation.

—

It's odd.

So terribly, terribly odd.

Karin. Kurosaki Karin. Formerly soccer playing girl with a wistful grin; now a prisoner about to be released, she still has an effect on him.

By all means, that shouldn't be possible – a series of loosely connected ought to be nothing at all.

Yet they do.

And she is strange, with misplaced smiles and carefully chosen words; somehow he cannot help but notice the stability entwine so closely with uneasy danger and looming threats, thrown off balance by a serene face. There is an element of uncertainty, crackling like electricity stuck in static, always a warning to keep his wits about him.

All the same, he wants to help her.

But it is more than _just_ wanting to help her, or take care of her. It's complex and he doesn't know how to phrase it correctly and make the mystery unravel. Words won't be able to describe the emotions he feels.

All the same, he wants to be with her.

Yet she is going to leave, save for the fact that she is waiting for his response. And the ticking clock that turns every second into her desired freedom. Unlike the rest of the inhabitants, as he is so often used to, Karin isn't pushing towards the decision she wants. More like she's letting him make his own choice, and she's offering out like a bottle of candy, waiting for him to take it instead of shoving it in his arms. Instead, she's sitting on the sidelines, her presence more corporeal than anything else.

It's not the first time either, in which he can sense her, even if they are miles apart. She haunted him because he viewed her as a way to manifest what he himself could not voice. She opened his eyes and confronted him, pushed him and… let go, falling apart so seamlessly. Time and time again, Karin has haunted him, for reasons that still don't quite…

He loves her.

He's fallen in love with her.

Never has he doubted that.

And yet, for some reason, he doesn't know why. If there are a million reasons for it, then like crows flapping their wings into a midnight sky, he cannot think of one, discerning it from the fragmented memories of her. Or maybe the reason is simple, and it somehow isn't enough.

Perhaps it is like this: she's seen something in him, and he's seen something in her; and no one else can, be it by overlooking or being unaware of it. What they see – it's _there,_ barely tangible in form, but still there. And that tethers him to her and her to him; and while she holds on, she's on the brink of slipping away with the slightest indication of a nod, a smile, a word.

This is Hitsugaya Toushirou's choice, and this time he's painfully aware that he isn't forced to accept it because he has to. If he wishes, he could decline the offer and walk away.

Even so—

There is a knock on the door.

—

One last chance to make this right.

That's what this is.

And Ishida Orihime hopes that she is not too late.

Out of all of them, she can sympathize and empathize and identify with Karin the most. But still, there is a gap between them, and they are never going to be as close as they could have been.

She has tried to be there when she can, to offer her support and lend an ear and be the cheerleader with pretty new dresses and orange pompoms. Orihime has tried to reach out because there seems to be candle to light the darkness in Karin's world. It feels like that, sometimes, at least. Maybe she's wrong; and the light is always there, flickering dimly with wafts of cabbage and Tabasco sauce; and it shines brighter at other times, honeydew and bacon. But this cannot be one-sided; both must make attempts to try, relenting or pursuing after a while, meeting midway, more or less.

Karin, even now, is young.

So young.

And bitter and unhinged and like a shattered mirror, each shard reflecting a different aspect of a marred personality.

That innocence can never be regained.

Aizen has twisted her and broken her and Ishida Orihime knows that Karin will never be completely free from that, the scars always there on the inside. Like onions, really.

Ten. Eleven. Twelve. Thirteen. Fourteen. Fifteen. Sixteen.

Karin had spent the most confusing and conflicting years of her life with messed up hormones in Hueco Mundo. Adjusting, coping, discovering herself once more, building walls and making illogical rules so that she remained strong. The life before all that must now seem so unreal.

And yet… and yet…

Ishida Orihime believes.

"Orihime-chan…"

Her hand tightens her hold, and the auburn haired woman turns to offer a bright, gentle and hopeful smile.

"Nearly there, Yuzu-chan."

—

She had decided, long ago, to give him space.

Because he needed it.

Because she needed it.

Now though, she cannot afford to give him more time.

Everything is at stake here, and she _has_ to know from him, before it's too late and everything is left unsaid.

So she takes a deep breath, stills her trembling hands, walks up to the door and knocks.

Exhales, inhales, she goes through the motions of waiting through eternity, before the steady footsteps are heard on the other side and the door begins to part.

Can't help but smile when she sees his snowy white hair.

"Hinamori."

"Shirou-chan." A slight nod, her nickname now a compulsion, because she's been saying it for far too long, regardless of titles and time well spent.

"Can I come in? I brought watermelons."

—

The sky does not bring comfort. Instead, it drags despair down to the seeping sorrow of reality.

Lately, all Kurosaki Ichigo has been doing is stare at sunrises and sunsets, unable to do anything but reflect.

He doesn't know _what_ to do.

And he _should._

He should know what to say and how to act and do it brilliantly. But he can't, because he feels like he's failed Karin and all he can do is hear her words bitingly spat back at him.

But this time, he is not alone.

"Here again? Ichigo…"

Brown eyes close, deep in a sigh.

Rukia crouches, reaching for his shoulder with a brush of her fingertips.

"You can't help people who don't want to be saved. Remember that. You can only go so far." Lips press against his temple, and they fade away like mist.

Unattainable. Unreachable.

And Ichigo knows that those words don't feel right; the phase should not exist.

But willpower alone will not make it happen.

"Rukia…"

He wants to, desperately. But he doesn't know what he wants, and this tug of war is taking it's toll.

"Don't push everything away because of one thing – because of her."

He tries to offer a smile, a nod, to show that he has understood and does understand.

—

But he hasn't.

Because Ichigo refuses to see that until the words are beaten over him and he is _forced_ to accept it, shoved into his face until it clicks.

To Rukia, being gentle at this very moment is horrible, because it concerns the matters of the heart and Ichigo has to realize this without anybody else's help.

Yet she has no choice. And it is not her place to decide for him.

He only has till daybreak.

The red bleeds to black, and for a glimmering second, Rukia wonders if all she can do is watch Ichigo make a decision about Karin.

Be it right or wrong.

—

Feels like a dream, watching the dawn disintegrate with the honoured freedom, splayed out so beautiful.

Today's the day, as per their agreement.

The whole reason why she came back; she honoured her side, they would honour theirs, and in return, the _shinigami_ would not bother her.

Today's the day.

It's what she's been waiting for all her time here.

Kurosaki Karin is finally free.

And so she smirks.

"Karin-chan?"

Her back stiffens. Blue eyes widen, recognising that voice—_that voice_—from behind her. It's _not_ a dream – not like before, when she fainted onto Toushirou and spent what seemed to be far longer than it was, on the outside, it may have lasted a few seconds, on the inside it felt like infinity; or how they communicated afterwards, occasionally, through a dreamscape.

Swallowing down a gulp, Karin fights a smile, unsure if her mind was only playing cruel tricks on her. Proof that she had actually gone mad.

"Karin-chan!"

… no.

This is reality.

"It's me."

The cell is unlocked, and it swings open with liberation.

And Karin turns, unable to bear it any longer, smile breaking all her stoicism.

"Yuzu?"

Her smile radiates like the sun, arms tumbling around her neck as the both of the collapse onto the floor, the affection more enthusiastic than intended, and expected.

But they laugh all the same, and it feels like home can exist once more with Yuzu.

"I missed you."

—

"How are you?" Awkward, she says, flashing a grateful smile to Orihime.

"I'm… good. Yeah, I'm good." A rueful smile spreads out on Karin's face, and she pushes black locks out of her eyes, a pleasant dark blue. "Better now, actually – since you've—since—" Pain and guilt blossoms on her cheeks with pink embarrassment. "… I'm sorry."

"Sorry? What for?" Blinking, Yuzu wonders why Karin says that. "None of this was your fault! None of it. It was… it was just bad luck. That's all."

All of it.

But Karin seems to be amused by her phrasing, lips tilted upwards.

"Amazing how far _bad luck_ can take you." Laughing, deep and throatily, the sound makes the hairs of Yuzu's neck prickle.

It's like Karin's trying to push her away, by acting like a stranger.

"Don't, Karin, I—"

It's just them. Twin sisters, together again.

Why can't it be just that simple?

"Okay." The odd look falters, regaining a healthier pallor. "I'm sorry." Quietly, Karin speaks – and Yuzu catches the shimmer of soft sadness in her eyes before it passes. "I didn't… I didn't mean to…" She shakes her head, and it becomes apparent that she's so lost in this world. "How have you been?" Clearing her throat, the older sister offers a quick smile and an engaging nod.

She's trying, and that's enough.

Yuzu smiles in return, and begins to speak. "Better in a long time, now that I've seen you. But it's all right now, isn't it? It's going to be all right, now that you're free. You can come home now."

… and she's said the wrong thing, judging by the discomfort evident in Karin's face, though her older sister tries to hide it by looking away.

"Yuzu. I… I can't. I can't go home."

—

"What?"

Her younger sister's smile fades.

Yuzu is shocked, and that's the exact reaction Karin knew she'd have, and didn't want.

"Let me finish." Gently, but hastily, she adds. "I can't go home _yet._"

Oh yes. One word. One word will _really_ make all the difference.

She'd better start to elaborate, before it sounds like she's just making excuses. If it doesn't already.

"I need… space. Time. Time and space. To… get away from all of this. Just to breathe, relax and gather my bearings. I _need_ to get away."

Heavy eyes flicker shut, knowing full well that it's come out wrong, a clumsy set of words that have been phrased with no tact.

"Need? Or want?" Yuzu just stares, sad eyes the same from before the nightmare began, forlorn before the outcome is truly predicted. If she's angry, then it's the same as it was those many years ago, quietly boiling, the lighted simmer of a kettle. The bubbles may not burst inside the kettle; but the hot splash of water is felt all the same.

"… neither – both? I don't know!" Reckless, the words blurt out from her mouth, bordering on hysteria. "I want to _get out of here._ I want to be _me_ again instead of—" Karin takes a breath, trying to restrain some control on herself. This is Yuzu, not Ichigo. She isn't mad at her younger sister. She just—she just doesn't _understand._ "I don't want to be involved with _this_ anymore!"

"And that includes _not coming home_?" Honey-gold hair flies wild, and the maternity figure doesn't suit one so young.

Kurosaki Karin is so sick of masks and deadly masquerades, people pretending to be someone that they are not.

Yuzu is her sister, not her mother.

But she doesn't say a word, exerting her will to keep on breathing, collecting her thoughts until she calms down.

"… I can't pick up my old life again. I _can't_. Not like that." Slowly, the words are said. Snapping her fingers, clicking an empty echo, her blue eyes meet her sister's, sombre. "I would… it would feel so wrong."

"Why? Because you feel you don't belong? Karin-chan, that's only a state of the mind! If you let it—"

"I know." Her interruption is spoken in something less than a murmur, buried resignation unearthing. And something darkens inside of her, heavy and weary, cannot grasp this information. If she let it, a million things could happen. The same could be said otherwise. Memories overtake her, bitter shadows of something so pure. "Used to have friends there. Family. Love."

"And you still do!" Yuzu reaches out and the contact is welcome, but it still feels unreal, despite the insistence.

"Mm." Maybe. These days she doesn't know if half the things she says are for effect, if she means it, or just to speak and talk shit. "I just… I want this to be over. Be free. Stop being so intricately involved with things I shouldn't be in the first place." She doesn't know why she's shaking and laughing, but it's making her solar plexus feel so numb and she can't cope with this much longer. "Want to be free of this, Yu-chan. So badly."

"Karin." Her embrace is welcome, and Yuzu attempts another approach, trying to be kind and patient, and Karin knows she'll find a way. "Where would you go?"

"India. America. Morocco. Britain. Somewhere far away." Pushing herself away, Karin brushes away the tears that never fall. Just a bit longer. She doesn't know where she'll go, doesn't care, as long as it's not Karakura Town.

"… I think you're just trying to get out of Ichigo's shadow." Yuzu's comment is softly spoken, but it's not meant for harm.

She doesn't respond, the older teen fiddling with the end of her sleeve.

"If I asked, would you take me with you?"

"No." It's reflexive, automatic, and the words come out before she even has a chance to stop them. "You can live a normal life. The life I could have—" _Should have._ Her mind darkly corrects. "—lived."

"I knew it." Looking away, Yuzu sighs. "You two always leave me behind."

"Don't say that!"

_Don't compare me to him!_

The younger sister is determined, eyes strong and unflinching. "But it's true. Neither of you tell me anything. I… I understand, Karin-chan, I do. And I know you won't like this, but it's true, that you and Ichi-nii are so alike sometimes. Disconcertingly so."

"… Yuzu." Karin doesn't know what to say to that. Averts her eyes, vain hope that it will stop her hearing the comparisons between her and her big brother that _don't exist. _Doesn't want to listen any more.

And Yuzu lets it go, gentle as always. The younger sister reaches out, and Karin does not move away.

"Promise me that you'll stay in touch, and visit me. Promise me." It's reluctant, but Yuzu is yielding to the closed subject.

"Pinkie promise." It's a twitch of a grin, but her little finger is still extended, and wiggling at many previous promises, all kept in that age of innocence. "I'll visit you, and the old man. If he's still alive."

"Pinkie promise."

And Yuzu hugs her and Karin holds on, and finally, _finally_ does it feel alright.

—

"What happened to your hair? It was longer… wasn't it?"

"Fancied a cut. Knew a good hairdresser, but I wouldn't recommend him. A bit temperamental, if you ask me."

She's ten again, and hopefully, her hair won't be as jaded as before.

A new start.

—

Small talk doesn't seem appropriate, and Hinamori Momo sets the cup of tea on the table, after watching Hitsugaya Toushirou munch and swallow the whole watermelon easily. She scans his room, noticing how everything is meticulously in place, how neat and ordered and structured, and that in itself is just a little bit cold.

"Is it true?" Eventually, she speaks, hands placed on her lap, her violet eyes looking into his.

His face is blank.

"Is what true?"

"That you're leaving? With Kurosaki Karin."

No reaction, Hinamori is almost disappointed.

But the silence lingers on, and so the ambiguity remains.

"… maybe." His Adam apple bobs, and Hinamori knows that he isn't considering it; he's _chosen_ and just won't tell her. "But I want to tell Karin my answer first."

"So the rumours—"

"Were partially true. Karin offered the choice that I was welcome to go with her when she left. I merely haven't decided."

Or told her the outcome of his choice.

"Ah." She doesn't know if her smile is painful or placating, but Hinamori Momo is still as confused as before. "Okay then. Glad we cleared that up, eh?" Talking absolute rubbish, her mind yells. So she continues, struggling to keep the conversation flowing. "But if you stayed—"

"Momo." Shirou-chan says her name with such gravity, that she stops talking. "Am I… lately, I've been wondering: do I really belong here, as _soutaichou_, even?"

"Well, that depends." Carefully, Momo picks up her teacup and gazes at what little liquid remains, sloshing about as she moves it from side to side. She wants to say _yes, absolutely_, but that might be… the wrong answer. "I'd say, you do a good job as soutaichou. But… I've been thinking – now, I've been suspecting, and I'm sorry for not being a better friend, but… I don't think you're happy here."

Day by day, little by little, as the work load increased, Shirou-chan had become robotic, uptight and more prone to snap at people. And Karin, somehow, fixed that. Not completely, but after she visited him, be it after the Academy, or as a cleaning lady, Hitsugaya Toushirou was definitely more relaxed and easy going. Many people had gossiped, judging by Karin's smirks afterwards, or the ruffled hair of both.

How many of them would guess that Karin probably did that because she wanted them to think the wrong idea?

Not to say that _all _of them were purposeful, but a good few, Hinamori reckoned.

Kurosaki Karin helped Hitsugaya Toushirou, Hinamori Momo saw it, and couldn't deny.

"But… that doesn't mean you have to leave. You could take a vacation. Or step down from being soutaichou, if the work load is too much. You know, maybe Yamamoto chose the wrong Shirou-chan. It's a thought, hmm?"

It earns her a smile, one which she returns with delight.

"Possibly." Haughty once more, Shirou-chan sniffs and looks away. "And possibly not."

And the laughter, quiet and loud, could not be ignored any longer.

—

"Would you write to me, if you left? Tell me about your adventures, and drop by when could?" Knees fold up, pressing against her chest, arms on top, head resting on them. It's almost childlike, how Hinamori Momo wants to be reassured.

But it's natural, and they've played this role many times.

Trouble is, he doesn't want to say what she wants to hear, because he doesn't know.

"Maybe."

"Hey! Don't say _maybe_!" Eyebrows furrow in an exasperated manner, and she's teasing him, Hitsugaya Toushirou is very aware of it. "Say _yes!_"

"Alright then – yes." He gives in far too easily.

"But don't say _yes_ if you don't mean it." Her arms fold, as she reprimands him. "_Do_ you mean it?"

She waits expectantly.

"… yes?"

"Okay then." She gives a blinding grin. "I expect updates from you two every month. If I'm impatient, I will send Hell Butterflies to you week. So you _know_ you have to send one back. They'll find you, somehow."

… it sounds like she already knows what his answer is going to be.

And then she runs, arms around him, and somewhere along the line, he's realized that he's cradling her with love and memorizing this because this, this just might be their last chance. He doesn't wipe her tears, letting them soak into his _shihakushou. _

If this is all they've got left, then he'll take what she gives.

—

"You kissed me." He mumbles in her ear, just as she presses her lips to his ear, his cheeks, his forehead.

"Oh, Shirou-chan." She whispers, eyes closed, tender and caring, "I knew, even then. That was… my goodbye."

—

Finding Kurosaki Ichigo is a lot harder than Karin had anticipated.

Possibly because Karin herself doesn't_ want _to see him, and if she finds Ichigo, then she promised both Yuzu and Orihime that she would not fight with him. That probably included verbal spars, but she didn't dare ask.

… chances were that within seconds, they'd be shouting at each other yet again.

Because she's still angry and he's still a fucking _idiot._

—

"Hey," Karin says, resting on the rooftops, wriggling her toes. "You know, I've been looking for you for quite some time."

The _orange-berry _seems to be in a state of disbelief, without his dear Rukia to defend him.

It's just him and her and a corridor of silence.

Leaping lithely to the ground, Karin stretches, a smiling curling as the freedom grants her this.

"Now you've found me, what do you want?" Ichigo looks pained, as if her very presence is making him uncomfortable. Can't even spare a glance at her, head fixed sideways.

As it should.

"Why should I want anything?" Hands slide up, posed in surrender, guilty as charged. Calmly, she examines her fingers, somewhat pale. "Really?"

"Obviously you do, otherwise you wouldn't have sought me out." He scoffs, a frown marring his face. Maybe the sight of familiarity should bring joy, it only brought forth annoyance.

"And you know me that well, do you? You've visited me every day to check on me, your sweet sister? Making sure I'm comfortable, making sure I'm just as okay as Yuzu? Funny, I thought you didn't take favourites. And you always said that big brothers cared for their sisters _equally_, without picking one over the other. Well, that just proves that my faith in you shouldn't exist at all."

This isn't a fight.

It's just playful, mocking, spiteful banter.

—

A pause.

Ichigo falters, still confused with what she wants. There's a motive – a reason why she's here. But he doesn't know it.

Karin sighs; flicks back her hair – the length short enough to be reminiscent of when she was ten. She must have gotten another haircut to fix up the messy locks of hair that Grimmjow—that Grimmjow cut.

Her blue eyes, a dark fiery ocean, gaze straight through him, penetrating the soul, and he can't look away.

"… I'm leaving, and I thought it would be good manners, at least, to say goodbye."

Something chokes within him, a strangled, garbled noise that doesn't quite make sense.

_Leaving?_ She isn't—she's not going to actually… _is she?_

"You can't—"

"_Can't?_" Her voice is low, quiet and controlled, but her entire body is tense, and blue eyes have flared with indignation. _Reiatsu_ rises, her anger with it. "Can't? Who are you, _Ichigo_, to say what I can and can't do when you've hardly visited me, hardly helped me, so tell me, what _have _you done that isn't completely redundant?"

This isn't right.

They shouldn't—they shouldn't be _fighting_ because Ichigo had been so sure… so sure that this would have been resolved. Given enough time…

And he doesn't realize the moment when he stops listening, but still. He hates feeling so _lost_ when it comes to his little sister.

Her slap is more than an eye-opener to snap him back onto reality; his skin stinging with more than just her invisible tears.

—

"I never claimed my life was a fucking fairytale!" Karin shouts, wishing that he'd _get_ it. "I don't care if you pretend to be some big hero. I don't even care if you stay _here!_ All I want is for you to understand is that _you let me down!_ I _trusted_ you, _believed_ in you, and – and when I needed you the most, you weren't there. And you know what? You can't take it back. None of it, because this is over. I'm done with dealing with your shit. I lied for you, watched your back, made excuses because I really, really had so much faith and hope in you. You were my big brother. My hero."

And isn't it so easy to realize that heroes soon become fallen and mean less than dirt?

"Life was hard, but I managed, okay? It was me, you, Yuzu and the old man! It wasn't easy, but we lived, right? We… we were happy, and life was simple. Simpler then than it is now." She's not breaking down, she's—she's just so tired of this. But she can't stop shaking.

"I didn't mean—"

"Oh no, of course you didn't." Furious, she spits, not in the mood for his excuses. "You never do. Prioritize the family; make the deal with Rukia, and bingo! You're a hero. So you think _I'm strong. I'm a saviour. I can fight. I can save._ And isn't that just _peachy._ Problem is, _orange-berry_, you get caught up with the romantic notions, swept away because it's just that damn easy. So along comes Aizen, and his kidnapping of Orihime… and there's your chance, be the hero, save her. But here's the thing: during that, _I _get kidnapped, and for some reason, you never suspect _him._" Baring her teeth at him, she feels like screaming. But all she can do is shake and shake and stand still and shake. "But you did mean it. You see, you want to act the hero. You want to save and save and save and in your stupid little romantic notion of being something so _heroic_—you don't _think._ You just _act._ Never giving a damn about the consequences."

It's instinctive, to lose control and rage. Never mind about the promise that she tries so hard to keep.

To stay in touch with Yuzu is one thing. To not fight with Ichigo is another.

Because Karin is still not over it—being kidnapped for five years, locked away for one more, with barely any contact, or any therapists, forced to be the mask that she has tried to avoid—there has been no outlet for these emotions. She's still angry, because she bears these mental scars, and they still _hurt._

The betrayal still feels raw, as if it's only yesterday; and those emotions, however dulled down, are going to remain with her, her entire life.

"When are you going to realize Ichigo," Karin speaks slowly, and she can scarcely breathe. "That you have a brain and you can use it?"

—

"This year, I don't know what I've been waiting for the most. An apology, which will mean nothing. Freedom, to get away from everything that reminds me of you. The right to return home, which I'm not even sure I can find. Forgiveness, sorrow, tears, bloodshed. I don't know what I what. I don't know what I need. Maybe I needed you to be there, this entire fucking year. Maybe I needed you before, to rescue me before it's too late. Maybe I just needed a big brother, before all this even began. I don't know. But I am so, so fucking pissed off because this year, you could have done something meaningful. You could have fixed thing, you could done anything. _Anything._"

And instead, he had done nothing, shied away, giving it time, giving it thought, and finding no solution.

Wasn't there because he wanted someone to tell him what to do.

Her arms fall to her side, stretched out like wings, appealing to an audience that doesn't exist.

"Which Kurosaki is hurt more, _orange-berry_? You, because everything has _changed_? Or me, because everything is the _same_?"

That one year, there was the possibility for him to redeem himself, and prove himself to her. Instead, he didn't, shying away from this stranger of a sister, believing that she would revert to that former shadow girl. And that's thrown his whole world into chaos, and he didn't cope. Not at all. Maybe he thought that this was too much. Maybe he thought that this was a joke. But meeting her again, broke him.

That one year, Karin had expected too much. Refused every advance, shot down every glimmer of hope. Because it was fun. Because she believed that he would never stop believing. Because she didn't know what to do. And that cost her. Because Kurosaki Ichigo gave up, and their relationship didn't improve, remaining static and jarred. They were in the same spot as before, an irrevocable incitement.

—

Two naïve dreamers and neither of them understand.

And because of that, these bonds cannot be repaired. One is unwilling, while the other believes himself to be something he's not.

Magic does not exist, though time may take away some of the grudge, some semblance will remain which will bar their reunion.

One lives in dreams, the other lives in nightmares.

Hard work is not at the beck and call of someone who simply swings a sword without any target. Precision must be made, with a goal in mind. Clumsiness is no excuse, and if their paths have divided instead of diverged, then so be it.

They still influenced each other, and both live in the repercussions of their choices.

—

"Are you stuck in some sort of purgatory? Are you so useless in accepting thing, to the point in which you reject it? Or are you much weaker than you want to admit?" This isn't mockery, or tearing down his defences. This is her desperation craving an answer. The mask is gone, and Karin wonders if Ichigo knows that.

Maybe Yuzu is right, and it's because they are so similar that they clash, barely able to remain long in each other's presence.

Maybe not.

She sighs, a ploy to release her pent up rage; takes a step back and shuts her eyes, thinking hard.

"… I didn't come here to fight, Ichigo. I really, really didn't." Exhaling, Karin eventually speaks, regaining clarity. "Because there's no point in arguing the point over and over again. I've told you a thousand times, you don't listen and somehow, it's just moot point. And we aren't willing to do anything about it. Maybe we're too proud, I can't say." Her hand clench and she's finally stopped trembling. Anger cools down, but what remains is something numb. "I don't know. I'm just… sick of it. Sick and tired because we're not getting anywhere."

Her tongue runs over the roof of her mouth, and she turns to go, sparing him one last glance.

"… I don't hate you, Ichigo. Used to, or maybe, I just confused that with intense dislike." She shakes her head, it's irrelevant and finally, she's pulling out. "I guess we were just trying to save the people that mattered most in different ways." Her tone is even, and Karin feels nothing at all, but bitter disappointment. "But, I wanted you to know that."

"Karin…"

She's not going to listen to him. Because he doesn't deserve it – everything that he says is out of ignorance and flimsy excuses. The damage is already done, and she's had enough with paying for it.

"I may not hate you, but I don't forgive you."

Interrupting him, Karin can feel tears welling up, and she only blinks faster to make them stop.

"Make sure that you remember that, okay?"

Love is such a fucking stupid and pointless emotion. It makes things feel worse, makes things feel better. It makes everything seem much more powerful because of it. Love turns to hate, love becomes hate because the love in itself cannot bear the amount of love that is held. Love makes you crazy, love makes hope… and love lets people down.

Love hurts people, and that is an astringent truth that is lost in romanticism.

And Karin can't stop loving Ichigo, no matter if she refuses to accept it.

—

"So what now?"

Karin jaw clicks, dislodging in annoyance. She isn't impressed.

And neither is he; but he wants her stay and he's got absolutely nothing. She's practically slaughtered the family bonds that include him; and she expects him to fail with everything.

"I don't know. I just don't know, okay? You know, like I said: use that brain of yours, and stop looking for guidance. Think for yourself."

There's no malice in her words, only apathy.

"I've said what I've wanted to say, so let's leave it at that."

"Karin." Subconsciously, he knows, he has to stop clinging – this is beyond pathetic. But—

"Will it… will we ever be okay?"

And she turns. Short jagged hair accentuating high cheekbones, blue eyes determined, skin colour pale, but healthy. Even now, she's still a little bit skinny, but she's strong. And in some twisted way, however small that part of him is: he's still proud of her.

"No. I don't ever think we will be." With that, she crushes those dreams, speaking truthfully, open and vulnerable, no ulterior objective. "We'll never be as close as we used to be. It's too late. Maybe things will get better, given time. And maybe not."

Karin shrugs, and begins to walk away.

"Who knows, Ichi-nii? The future isn't set in stone."

—

So she walks, and does not look back.

Ichigo can hear her, and another voice, one that he doesn't recognise. The voice is thanking her, for protecting them when a Hollow could have killed them – and instead, with an exasperated sigh, Karin came in and saved them, though it cost her, a trip to Fourth Division. They never had the chance to thank her, because she was so elusive.

Karin. Saving someone. Ending up in Fourth Division.

Really, he should have known this, and have been there. Even for a moment—even for a second.

Maybe it's not too late.

But he's still living in a selfish world; and selfish desires don't always turn out the way people expect.

Karin hasn't said _goodbye_, but it is goes unsaid, felt in the very ground, and through the walls that have become quieter with mumbled voices.

This time, Kurosaki Ichigo is letting her go; and walks a different direction.

—

"You know, Ukitake-taichou. I think… Yamamoto had chosen the wrong 'Shirou'."

"Y-You mean…?"

Hitsugaya Toushirou sighs, still in disbelief at what he is about to do.

Handing over the position is one thing, but… actually _saying _this?

"One Sh-Shirou-chan looks out for another."

—

… it does not save him from the amount of sugar candy that emerges from thin air.

Or the unexpected hug (plus more candy stuffed into his pockets) which Ukitake Juushirou took the chance to murmur happily: "I knew you'd say it back one day!"

Fucking _joy._

—

He spots her waiting for him, long after The Embarrassing Event, and still he finds candy in hidden places.

Karin yawns, as she lightly jumps down to meet him, pulling him into a kiss, a tease as he feels her hands flitter and rest on his skin.

"Wanted to do that for quite some time, Toushirou." Karin says with a smile.

"Not complaining." He says, a slight grin twitching, ever so slightly. "In fact…"

He kisses her again, lips meshing together – and he can sense something about her that's different. Like she's lighter, or more whole or more stable than she was before.

"So?" Karin catches his hand, before glancing at the still blue sky that is nearly cloudless. But the sun shines one, and that's better than nothing. She holds her question with bated breath. "What's your answer?"

"Haven't you guessed?"

"Well." Rolling her eyes playfully, they begin to walk. "I want to hear the words from the mouth of the dragon himself."

"Oh, very funny."

"Don't you worry; I'll find better jokes to tease you with." Karin laughs, enjoying being able to ridicule him. "So let's here it then."

"Fine." He's made his peace, and found that this isn't what he wants: to be soutaichou. "I want to go with you."

"And so you shall." Karin grins, starting to run, wind blowing through her hair; and he can't help but join her, chuckling at this free spirit.

—

It's not perfect.

This is nowhere near perfect.

Both of them still have issues, and made mistakes that have yet to be resolved but… it's okay.

They have each other to depend on, and they may not say it just yet, but they're in love.

Despite the bad, there is good.

Hope exists.

The road may be tough, but they'll find it: their own special brand of happiness.

—

"Where to?"

He asks and she smiles, mysterious, but it doesn't unnerve him.

"Anywhere."

_Don't you know that the world is at our fingertips?_

And all he does is tighten his grip on her, hands interlocking, as he returns the easy going smile.

"Anywhere, huh? I've always wanted to go there."

* * *

**a/n.** _Thank you for reading and reviewing, it's been a pleasure writing this. I hope you enjoyed it as much as I did._


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